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KINGS    AND    QUEENS 
I    HAVE    KNOWN 


I'lioto  hy  Miindy,  I'ucliaicst 


HELENE  VACARESCO 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS 
I  HAVE  KNOWN 


BY 


HELENE   VACARESCO 


WITH    TWELVE    ILLUSTRATIONS 


LONDON   AND   NEW   YORK 
HARPER    ^    BROTHERS 

45  ALBEMARLE  STREET,  W. 
1904 


)n 


i  !   •» 


PO 


TO  THEIR  IMPERIAL  AND  ROYAL  MAJESTIES 
THE  KINGS  AND  QUEENS,  TO  THEIR 
IMPERIAL  AND  ROYAL  HIGHNESSES  THE 
PRINCES  AND  PRINCESSES  WHOSE  NAMES, 
VISAGES  AND  WORDS  ARE  HERE  CELE- 
BRATED I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK  IN  TOKEN 
OF  DEEP  GRATITUDE  FOR  ALL  THE 
PERSONAL  KINDNESS  THE  AUTHOR  HAS 
RECEIVED  FROM  THEM 

HELENE  VACARESCO 


CONTENTS 


Queen  Elizabeth  of  Roumania  (Carmen  Sylva) 

King  Edward  VII. 

Queen  Alexandra  . 

The  Emperor  of  Austria 

The  German  Emperor  . 

The  Czar  and  Czarina  . 

Margherita  di  Savoia,  Dowager  Oueen  of  Italy 

King  Victor  Emmanuel  III.  and  Queen  Helena 

Queen  Maria  Christina  and  King  Alfonso  XIII.  of 
Spain      ...... 

Wilhelmina  I.,  Oueen  of  the  Netherlands 

The  Sovereigns  of  Servia 

The  Pope  Leo  XIII.     .... 

Queen  Victoria     ..... 

Index     ....... 


''agi 

I 

>•> 

51 

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69 

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89 

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117 

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143 

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167 

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185 

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213 

j> 

235 

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255 

J> 

277 

>» 

291 

» 

317 

ILLUSTRATIONS 


Helene  Vacaresco        .  .         .         .         , 

Queen  Elizabeth  of  Roumania  (Carmen  Sylva) 
King  Edward  VII.  and  Queen  Alexandra 
The  Emperor  of  Austria      .... 

The  German  Emperor         .... 

The  Czar  and  Czarina         .... 

Margherita  di  Savoia,  Dowager  Queen  of  Italy 
King  Victor  Emmanuel  III.  and  Queen  Helena 
Queen  Maria  Christina  and  King  Alfonso  XIII.  of 
Spain  ...... 

Wilhelmina  I.,  Queen  of  the  Netherlands 
The  Pope  Leo  XIII.  ..... 

Queen  Victoria  ...... 


.    Frontispiece 

•    Facing  fage 

I 

>» 

51 

>» 

89 

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117 

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143 

»> 

167 

f 

185 

i» 

213 

»> 

235 

»> 

277 

>» 

291 

QUEEN    EI.IZA]!ErH   OK   ROUMAMA   (CARMEN    SVLVA) 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 
(CARMEN  SYLVA) 

As  far  as  the  other  Queens  and  Royal  Princesses 
mentioned  in  my  writings  are  concerned,  I  have  had 
the  honour  of  approaching  them  only  at  times  when 
prepared  for  any  striking  impressions  they  might 
make.  I  carried  into  their  presence  a  heart  eager  to 
receive  all  the  emotions  of  the  moment  and  a  spirit 
aglow  with  desire  to  note  as  much,  hurriedly  as 
possible,  from  what  might  pass  during  such  thrilling 
interviews.  I  have  met  almost  all  the  reigning 
sovereigns  of  modern  Europe  and  their  Consorts, 
and  have  much  to  relate  about  them,  since  1  soon 
became  a  keen  observer  of  every  Court  I  stepped 
into ;  yet,  whatever  I  have  said  or  thought  of  Kings 
and  Queens  I  have  known  is  derived  from  the 
experience  of  some  transitory  event,  and  gathered  in 
the  strained  mood  into  which  we  are  apt  to  fall  when- 
ever something  extraordinary  happens  to  us. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  image  of  the  Queen  of 
Roumania  has  shed  a  radiance  over  my  whole  life. 
From  my  earliest  childhood,   all  that  is  good    and 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

noble  and  true  I  have  learnt  to  revere  from  her  words 
and  in  her  eyes.  The  beauty  of  nature  and  of 
human  labour,  the  careful  study  of  my  own  soul, 
piety,  the  joy  dwelling  in  forms  of  harmony  and 
grace,  I  have  gathered  from  her  as  with  generous 
hands  she  threw  her  thoughts  like  flowers  in  my 
path.  To  her  I  am  indebted  for  my  brightest  hours, 
as  for  the  love  that  lies  hidden  in  days  of  gloom. 

Were  "  Carmen  Sylva  "  only  a  Queen  and  not  a  poet 
too,  the  study  of  her  personality  would  prove  a  diffi- 
cult task  even  to  me  who  have  spent  so  much  time  by 
her  side  and  who  am  more  intimately  acquainted  with 
her  ideas  and  pursuits  than  her  other  biographers  can 
be.  These  last  are  innumerable,  but,  different  as  each 
appreciation  of  their  wonderful  subject  may  appear, 
though  they  have  seen  her  from  widely  varying 
standpoints, the  same  enthusiasm, sincereand  thrilling, 
animates  all  their  descriptions.  And  every  one  of 
these  images  is  true,  because  Elizabeth  of  Roumania 
is  an  individuality  so  multiplex  that  almost  any  his- 
torian can  offer  at  least  an  acceptable  clue  to  the 
problem  presented  by  such  a  soul.  For  instance, 
some  are  used  to  considering  her  in  the  light  of  a 
romantic  Princess  whose  mistake  it  is  to  be,  in  our 
matter-of-fact  century,  a  dreamer  and  a  theorist  as 
elusive  as  her  own  tales  of  the  fairies  that  haunt  the 
vine-clad  mountains  near  the  Rhine.  Others  have 
been  accustomed  to  compare  this  all-absorbing 
Queen  with  the  refined,  cultivated  ladies  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance  who  still  enthral  our  imagination  as  we 


OUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

read  about  their  grace,  their  love  of  beautiful  poems 
and  pictures  ;  the  fluent  talk  and  harmonious 
verse  whereby  their  Courts  were  rendered  centres  of 
intellectual  activity.  There  is  a  third  picture  of  her, 
where  she  is  depicted  in  a  wild  yet  familiar  attitude, 
scouring  the  wide  forests  of  the  Karpathian  moun- 
tains and  listening  with  mingled  delight  and  awe  to  the 
torrents  amidst  the  rocks.  And  not  one  of  these 
sketches,  not  one  of  these  interpretations  is  untrue, 
because  the  Queen  of  Roumania  in  some  degree  re- 
sembles them  all ;  she  might  even  suggest  a  much 
larger  number  of  illustrations  and  prove  each  of  them 
to  be  a  genuine  portrait. 

No  living  Sovereign  may  be  said  to  fill  the  modern 
world  with  so  much  curiosity  and  admiration  as  does 
the  Crowned  Poetess,  who  will  always  to  herself 
as  well  as  to  others  remain  a  startling  and  divine 
enigma,  a  sweet  and  dolorous  mystery.  Endowed 
with  every  virtue  that  soars  high  in  the  domain  of  spi- 
ritual strength,  the  Queen  is  yet  weak  as  a  new-born 
infant  when  she  has  to  struggle  in  the  realms  of 
reality.  Thence  terrible  misunderstandings  are  apt  to 
arise  between  her  and  those  who  judge  her  after 
their  own  custom  of  reducing  spiritual  processes 
to  material  action.  The  Queen  is  supposed  to  be 
good  by  nature,  blind  to  evil  by  instinct,  generous 
and  forgiving  in  a  spontaneous,  facile  way  :  few  guess 
the  real  grandeur  of  such  goodness,  or  from  what 
warm  source  of  human  love  and  celestial  aspirations 
the  blindness  and  forgiveness  spring.     Every  heart 

3 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

lies  bare  before  the  clairvoyant  eye,  the  quick,  obser- 
vant spirit,  and  severe  struggles  and  long  reflec- 
tion are  necessary  for  one  who  can  succeed  in 
giving  to  the  result  of  moral  labour  so  much 
apparently  intuitive  candour  that  it  passes  for  that 
inborn,  unvi'itting  kindness  to  which  no  gratitude 
seems  due.  Every  human  soul  may  be  called  a 
silent  battle-field  ;  the  artist's  duty  is  to  find  the 
victors  and  the  dead  ;  and  in  my  survey  of  the 
Queen's  inward  conflicts  I  have  ever  found  indig- 
nation and  desire  of  vengeance  defeated,  while 
sympathy,  pity,  and  every  quality  that  can  make 
a  woman  royal  daily  triumphed  in  her  breast. 

The  existence  of  Carmen  Sylva  in  every  moment 
of  her  busy  days  is  divided  between  two  conflicting 
forces,  for  ever  waging  war  as  to  which  shall  obtain 
the  upper  hand.  First,  her  calling  as  a  poet  with 
the  fervent  attachment  she  feels  for  every  art 
and  for  an  artist's  life,  then  her  duties  as  a  queen. 
Hence  while  endlessly  craving  after  leisure  and  day- 
dreaming, she  is  obliged  to  bestow  unceasing  atten- 
tion on  her  words  and  smiles,  her  every  gesture  ; 
full  of  desire  to  run  headlong  in  the  track  of  her 
imagination,  she  chafes  under  the  necessity  of 
restraint  and  must  show  indifference  to  all  that  most 
attracts  her.  And  this  everlasting  strife,  this 
enforced  duality,  has  always  prevented  complete 
adoration  from  being  accorded  her  by  those  who 
want  her  to  be  a  perfect  queen,  as  by  those  who 
wish  her  to  be  wholly  given  up  to  poetical  talent. 

+ 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

The  freedom  of  her  tastes  and  opinions  is  in  violent 
contradiction  with  the  quiet  manners,  the  subdued 
tones  she  is  obliged  to  assume,  and  thus,  bound  to  con- 
trol the  strongest  and  most  audacious  emotions,  the 
Queen  of  Roumania  is  a  living  prey  to  the  mingled 
elements  of  Fate. 

No  one  will  ever  be  able  to  tell  whether  queen  or 
artist  has  suffered  the  more  in  this  extraordinary 
blending  of  situations.  Does  the  crown,  besprinkled 
with  a  shower  of  rubies  and  diamonds,  which  once 
belonged  to  Josephine,  wife  of  Napoleon  I,,  weigh 
too  heavy  on  her  head,  that  she  should  take  it  off^ 
with  such  a  sigh  of  relief,  passing  her  slight  hands 
through  her  hair  as  if  to  remove  all  trace  of  the 
massive  symbol  while  yet  her  forehead  is  flushed 
from  the  exertion  of  wearing  it  ?  How  often  have 
I  seen  that  crown  rest  on  the  bureau  in  her  dressing- 
room,  after  an  official  dinner-party  or  ball  ;  how 
often  have  I  wondered  whether  its  owner  reproached 
it  for  keeping  her  so  long  from  the  cool  peace  of  her 
private  apartment !  And  then  I  have  imagined  the 
Queen  also  at  times  turning  her  wrath  on  the 
white  sheets  of  paper  and  the  long  slender  pen,  of 
whose  beckoning  she  has  been  aware  while  occupied 
in  distributing  her  smiles  amongst  the  expectant 
crowd  gathered  to  witness  one  of  those  spectacles  of 
pomp  and  dignity  which  they  are  ever  happy  to  gaze 
upon.  How  often  have  I  seen  that  splendid  crown 
and  the  humble  pen  lie  side  by  side  in  companionship 
so  close   that  I    could  scarce  remember  they  were 

5 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

bitter  antagonists,  whose  imperious  demands  filled 
a  Queen's  soul  in  turn  with  anguish  and  with  awe. 
One  special  evening  the  Queen  said  to  me  : 

"Oh,  if  that  crown  could  only  speak,  what  tales 
it  would  tell  of  the  brief  but  splendid  reign  of 
Napoleon  the  Great,  and  of  the  thoughts  of  his 
Creole  Empress,  as  her  coquettish  fingers  lifted  the 
ruby  circlet  to  her  brow  !  " 

"  Nay,"  thought  I,  "  if  that  crown  could  speak  it 
would  forget  Josephine  Beauharnais  and  the  Tuileries 
and  entertain  us  with  tales  of  Carmen  Sylva.  Then 
perhaps  we  might  realise  that  the  artist  would  have 
been  less  ardent  in  the  end  had  she  not  as  Queen 
been  perpetually  conscious  of  robbing  the  hours  that 
might  have  been  given  up  to  the  pen  ;  that  the  Queen 
would  have  possessed  less  grace  and  majesty,  were 
not  her  every  endeavour  stimulated  by  the  know- 
ledge that  in  accomplishing  her  task  she  was  sacri- 
ficing a  part  of  her  very  being." 

The  Queen's  childhood  was  indeed  a  sad  one,  and 
on  this  period  of  her  life  she  is  apt  to  dwell,  the 
tears  often  streaming  down  her  cheeks  as  she  recalls 
those  dark  days  of  trial  and  despondency.  Weary 
years  of  seclusion  by  the  side  of  her  sick  brother  and 
her  dying  father  did  much  toward  developing  the 
faculties  of  her  wonderful  imagination ;  but  the 
anguish,  the  feverish  expectancy  of  joys  that  never 
came,  all  the  glory  and  trials  of  a  crowned  consort, 
all  the  secret  drudgery  and  apparent  triumphs  of  her 
exalted  place — none  have  been  able  to  work  an  essential 

6 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

change  in  the  mind  of  the  Queen.  She  remains  still 
the  impetuous,  dreamy  girl  she  was  in  her  native 
castle  by  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  the  childish  prin- 
cess who  ran  on  the  career  of  her  fancies  as  fast  as 
the  waters  carried  past  the  windows  of  her  palace 
the  fleet  boats  whence  laughter  and  music  floated  on 
the  wind.  To  this  moment  the  light  in  her  eyes  is 
as  fresh  and  pure  as  in  those  days  when  her  mother 
called  her  "  my  wild  rose,"  and  marvelled  to  discover 
how  far  the  daring  young  spirit  had  travelled  into 
the  realms  of  fairy  lore  or  history,  and  how  glowing 
were  the  impressions  caught  by  her  youthful  love  of 
poetry  and  research. 

The  early  home  of  Princess  Elizabeth  of  Wied 
was,  as  I  have  said,  darkened  by  the  shadow  of  death. 
Her  little  brother  Otto  was  slowly  fading  before  her 
eyes,  cut  off  from  all  the  joys  of  his  age  by  the  awful 
malady  with  which  he  was  born  ;  while  her  father, 
the  last  roselike  tint  that  dulls  the  sky  before  the  sun 
is  set,  lingered  on,  and  though  growing  more  weary 
and  feeble  every  day,  still  poured  upon  his  child 
the  treasures  of  his  clear  intellect  and  gentle  heart. 
The  soft  splendour  and  hidden  martyrdom  of  his 
gradual  decline  overspread  all  the  days  of  her  youth. 
"  The  image  of  my  father,"  says  the  Queen,  *'  stands 
immortal  in  the  memories  of  every  hour  ;  when  I 
remember  my  girlhood  I  cling  to  him  yet.  I  cannot 
turn  my  head  towards  the  past  without  seeing  him. 
I  thrust  aside  the  branches  of  the  big  trees  that  sur- 
round our  summer  home.     I  perceive  the  big  white 

7 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

house  as  it  glimmers  amidst  the  foliage,  and  I  am 
ready  to  run  from  one  open  window  to  the  other  and 
cast  a  hungry  glance  into  each  familiar  room  ;  but 
there  is  one  window  where  I  must  ever  stop,  one 
spot  to  which  my  glance  is  chained.  My  father's 
window — my  father's  room  !  There  he  sits  ;  his 
thin  bluish  hands  are  resting  on  his  knees  or  on  an 
open  book,  but  his  eyes  wander  far  away  or  look  deep 
into  my  own.  The  image  of  my  father  fills  all  the 
past  for  me.  He  was  so  learned  that  he  believed 
many  extraordinary  things  which  make  the  ignorant 
man  shrug  his  shoulders  and  laugh.  He  believed  in 
miracles  because  creation  and  humanity  were  alike 
miracles  to  him.  He  felt  humbled  and  dazzled 
before  the  power  of  life  and  the  power  of  God,  and, 
like  a  man  seated  at  the  confluence  of  two  dashing 
rivers,  he  was  placed  between  life  and  immortality, 
and  looked  upon  everything  with  serenity  and  faith. 
At  twilight  the  mighty  forest  would  endeavour  to 
sleep  and  forget  the  departure  of  the  sun  :  then  it 
was  that  he  would  call  me  to  his  side  and  talk  to  me. 
I  watched  his  pallid  face  become  whiter  and  whiter, 
like  a  cool  stream  where  the  moon  is  about  to  rise. 
On  each  of  his  sunken  features  death's  sign  was 
announcing  that  his  frail  being  belonged  to  the 
tomb  ;  but  the  calm  strong  spirit  triumphed  openly 
over  death.  How  distinctly  one  could  note  that  my 
dreamy,  delicate  Father  came  from  an  ancient  race 
who   thus    completed   in   a   being    rich   in   thought 

and  dreams,  its  long  lineage  of  those  who  had  won 

8 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

distinction  through  great  actions  and  gallant  deeds. 
His  blue  eyes  and  his  movements,  graceful  and 
flexible  as  those  of  a  reed,  revealed  that  he  came 
from  those  old  Border  families  who  embody  in  their 
members  all  the  strength  and  charm  of  their  native 
Rhine.  And  his  soul  also  resembled  in  beauty  and 
vigour  the  light  vine-crowned  hills  whose  harmonious 
lines  are  reflected  in  the  glittering  river.  My  father 
was  a  real  Rhenan  Prince — not  one  of  those  princes 
history  loves  to  celebrate,  a  lord  eager  to  conquer 
and  possess,  but  a  prince  who  desired  the  realms  of 
Heaven  beyond  all  earthly  good  or  earthly  ambitions. 
In  a  land  where  the  past  survives  only  in  the  form 
of  the  horizon  and  the  cities  spread  among  the  hills, 
he  was  like  the  last  tendril  of  that  past,  and  on 
the  summit  of  his  soul  he  bore  the  supreme  flowers 
whose  soft  perfume  had  been  accumulated  by 
generations  of  heroes.  In  the  wide  range  of  thought 
he  produced  what  his  forefathers  had  produced  in  the 
domain  of  action." 

Princess  Elizabeth's  motherwas  the  eldest  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Nassau,  and  sister  to  the  present 
Duke  of  Luxembourg  and  the  Queen  of  Sweden. 
Pretty,  lively  and  intelligent,  she  had  been  brought 
up  in  the  gay  Court  which  flourished  in  that  smiling 
land  justly  called  the  Garden  of  Germany.  Its 
remains  may  still  be  found  in  the  castle  of  Biebrick, 
a  kind  of  German  Trianon,  once  the  centre  of  lively 
parties  and  entertainments;  but  since  the  departure  of 
its  sovereigns  it  rises  like  a  phantom,  and  seems  to 

9 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

weep  on  the  border  of  a  deserted  park,  relating  to 
the  Rhine,  that  sighs  in  turn,  all  the  festivities  of  the 
past.  Very  soon  after  marriage  the  life  of  pretty 
Princess  Marie  of  Wied  knew  sorrow  and  trouble. 
After  the  birth  of  her  eldest  son  and  daughter 
Elizabeth,  another  son  was  born,  a  charming  child, 
who  from  the  hour  of  his  birth  was  claimed  by  pain 
and  suffering  :  he  bore  on  his  frail  body  an  ever- 
open,  ever-bleeding  wound,  and  frequent  operations 
were  needed  to  prolong  his  martyred  life.  Queen 
Elizabeth  has  written  a  few  tragic  pages  in  which 
she  relates  the  short  life  of  the  little  Prince  Otto, 
and  the  simple  pathos  of  the  narrative  has  given  the 
book  a  high  place  amongst  works  dear  to  humanity 
as  well  as  to  art.  Surely  Prince  Otto  was  a  little 
saint.  In  all  that  Queen  Elizabeth  recalls  when  she 
tells  of  his  oft-repeated  tortures,  his  blankets  ever 
soaked  in  blood,  and  his  frame  always  shivering  from 
contractions  and  pains,  there  is  not  a  word  which 
does  not  speak  of  patience  and  faith.  The  reader 
vibrates  with  revolt  against  Nature  who  could  so 
cruelly  mingle  the  sound  of  repressed  sobs  and  deep 
grief  with  the  gentle  prattle  of  an  infant  over  his 
first  toys  ;  who  could  bid  the  age  of  careless  pleasure 
and  happiness  be  for  him  the  age  of  despair,  though 
the  child  himself  never  despaired  nor  murmured 
reproach  against  his  fate  or  his  God. 

Princess  Elizabeth  thus  saw  citadels  of  grief  rise 
one  after  another  and  wall  her  in  on  all  sides.  She 
contemplated  them  with  eyes  full  of  eagerness  and 

lO 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

tender  curiosity,  just  as  she  watched  the  Rhine,  and 
regarded  the  tall  forests  and  the  beautiful  legends  of 
their  soil.  But  the  accumulation  of  early  sorrows 
in  a  youthful  soul  is  like  the  mass  of  leaves  that 
covers  the  ground  in  autumn :  under  the  thick 
stratum  of  dead  foliage,  the  sap  of  hidden  plants 
is  fermenting,  waiting  to  spring  forth  in  stems  and 
blossoms.  The  perfume  of  spring  mingles  with  the 
moist  dull  odour  of  decay,  and  when  the  April  wind 
brings  sunlight  and  shower,  the  dead  leaves  are 
pushed  aside  by  the  vigour  of  the  blossoms  that 
have  grown  under  them.  Thus  a  gush  of  sunlit 
breeze  swept  through  the  existence  of  Princess 
Elizabeth,  and  darkness  and  despair  were  for  a  time 
forgotten  while  her  energy  awoke  to  new  life.  Her 
maternal  aunt,  the  Grand  Duchess  Helena  of  Russia, 
suddenly  decided  to  take  care  of  the  distant  young 
niece  whom  she  equally  pitied  and  admired. 

"  Send  me  your  dear  child,"  wrote  the  Great 
Duchess  to  the  Princess  of  Wied.  These  words 
proved  the  Open  Sesame  which  revealed  a  new 
world  to  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  bore  her  far  away 
from  the  dreary  circle  of  home  troubles. 

*'  I  cried  bitterly  as  I  took  leave  of  my  father,  and 
he  also  shed  tears,  but  mine  were  tears  of  hope, 
whereas  he  well  knew  that  he  would  never  see  me 
again  on  earth.  He  liked  the  Great  Duchess  Helena, 
and  he  was  charmed  with  my  prospects  of  seeing  new 
places  and  new  faces  ;  but  his  eyes  looked  a  last 
farewell  upon  me  as  I  tore  myself  from  his  trembling 

1 1 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

arms,  and  a  long  time  passed  before  I  could  get  over 
the  sad  impression." 

But  afterwards  the  flashing  splendours  of  the 
Russian  Court,  the  attraction  exercised  on  a  glowing 
imagination  by  the  fresh  beauties  and  vanities  which 
every  hour  brought  under  her  eyes,  chased  the  dark 
phantoms  from  her  memory.  She  wrote  to  her 
father  letters  so  cheerful  and  vibrating  with  life  that 
when  the  dying  Prince  replied  his  daughter  little 
guessed  how  high  his  pulse  beat  or  how  dizzy  his 
brain  felt  while  he  was  penning  words  of  encourage- 
ment and  wisdom. 

"This  Russia  is  such  a  dazzling,  interesting 
country  ;  the  light  of  Asia  seems  to  dwell  upon  the 
Imperial  Court,"  wrote  the  Queen,  in  speaking  of  the 
two  winters  she  spent  in  Petersburg.  "  The  fairies 
and  the  moon-clad  elves  I  loved  so  much  appeared 
too  shy  to  haunt  my  sleep  while  my  waking  hours 
were  filled  with  such  visions  of  magnificence  and 
power.  My  aunt  lived  in  her  dead  husband's  beau- 
tiful palace,  the  Palais  Michel,  and  entertained  some 
two  thousand  persons  under  her  roof,  many  of  whom 
she  had  never  even  seen.  The  immense  luxury  with 
which  she  was  surrounded  in  no  way  altered  her 
simple  tastes  or  the  easy  refinement  of  her  manners, and 
she  held  that  high  personages  should  live  with  much 
outward  pomp,  since  brilliant  pageants  and  solemn 
ceremonies  give  pleasure  to  the  public,  counting 
as  favours  bestowed  upon  them  by  their  sovereigns 
and   princes.     But  it  was   the   Great   Duchess  who 

12 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

taught  me  to  discover  all  the  misery  hidden  under 
the  folds  of  ermine-lined  purple,  and  so  convinced 
did  I  become  of  the  truth  of  what  she  said,  that  had 
I  then  heard  a  prophetic  voice  say  *  You  will  be  a 
Queen  !  '  I  should  have  wept  and  trembled  in  despair. 
I  know  some  of  you  may  doubt  or  smile,  as  you 
perhaps  believe  that  young  Princesses  fill  their  day- 
dreams with  bowing  multitudes,  triumphal  arches, 
crowns,  sceptres,  and  royal  trains.  But  you  are  mis- 
taken. We  possess  an  instinct  that  bids  us  beware. 
We  know  that  these  things  may  come,  and  we  are 
afraid.  But  in  general  it  is  not  Kings'  daughters 
who  become  Queens.  On  the  contrary,  the  less  con- 
spicuous among  Royal  Princesses  are  perhaps  most 
exposed  to  the  perilous  fate.  .  .  .  The  Great  Duchess 
Helena,  the  Northern  Juno  as  she  was  called,  was  a 
singularly  strong-minded,  good  woman.  All  the 
practical  qualities  which  I  acquired  and  have  since 
tried  to  display,  I  owe  to  her  patient  teaching  ;  for 
instance,  the  unfailing  interest  I  can  show  in  and 
extract  from  individuals  whose  mere  aspect  repels 
and  checks  good-will.  She  has  convinced  me  that 
no  human  creature  exists  who  cannot  be  induced  to 
speak  eloquently,  or  perform  good  deeds.  When  she 
travelled,  our  temporary  home  at  once  became  a 
centre  of  intellectual  company  and  congenial  spirits. 
With  her  I  visited  Paris  and  the  French  Court, 
Napoleon  III.  being  at  that  time  in  the  full  glow 
of  his  splendour.  1  attended  a  great  ball  at  the 
Tuileries,  and  saw  the  lovely  Empress  enter  the  great 

It 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

reception-rooms  by  the  side  of  the  Grand  Duchess, 
who,  though  already  an  elderly  woman,  looked  more 
regal  in  her  simple  attire  than  the  beautiful  woman 
who  walked  arm-in-arm  with  her  while  murmurs  of 
adulation  and  enthusiasm  excited  by  her  beauty  fol- 
lowed her  every  step.  '  You  are  exactly  like  a  rose-bud,' 
said  the  Empress  to  me  in  passing,  and  although  she 
repeated  the  compliment  to  every  young  girl  present, 
the  amiable  words  sent  a  thrill  through  my  heart,  as 
they  reminded  me  of  my  mother's  endearing  name, 
'  My  Wild  Rose.'  The  French  Empress  left  in  my 
memory  a  vision  of  harmony  and  youthfulness  which 
not  all  the  following  days,  when  I  have  thought  with 
pity  of  her  woes,  have  been  able  to  efface.   .  .  ." 

On  her  return  from  Russia  Princess  Elizabeth  of 
Wied  found  a  tomb  under  the  glossy  lime-trees  on 
the  hill  overlooking  the  Rhine.  Her  beloved  father 
was  dead,  and  from  that  moment  the  pain  of  his 
loss  has  been  intermingled  with  every  moment  of 
her  life  ;  she  has  never  kneaded  anything  with  her 
hands  as  an  artist  which  tears  for  her  father's  loss 
have  not  impregnated. 

If  I  were  writing  the  Queen  of  Roumania's  whole 
life  instead  of  trying  merely  to  give  a  correct  idea  of 
her  personality,  I  should  be  obliged  to  follow  her 
step  by  step.  This  I  have  promised  her  majesty  to 
do  one  day,  and  then  I  will  tell  you  all  that  she  has 
endured,  and  many  things  I  have  heard  her  say.  At 
Venice  one  evening  while  we  were  both  gazing  upon 
the  dim  lagoon  whence  the  last  slanting  rays  of  the 

H 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

sun  were  fast  departing,  the  Queen  stretched  out 
her  arms  towards  the  horizon,  and  said  suddenly : 

"  No,  no,  no  one  knows,  no  one  could  tell  like 
you  what  my  heart  and  my  thoughts  contain.  No 
one  has  seen  all  and  felt  my  sorrows  as  you  have 
done.  The  story  of  my  life,  divested  of  the  errors 
entwined  around  it  by  others,  my  soul  whose  emo- 
tions and  impulses  you  can  note,  and  whose  past  I 
have  shown  you — promise  me  that  they  will  be 
revealed  by  you  one  day,  when  the  propitious  hour 
arrives.     You  promise  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam,  be  assured  I  will  obey  you,  so  help 
me  God." 

Like  a  blood-red  necklace  the  purple  tinge  that 
darkened  the  twilight  sky  was  sinking  into  the 
water,  and  the  broad  lagoon  closed  upon  the  setting 
sun.  Thus  do  the  waves  of  my  heart  hold  enclosed 
the  sacred  promise  which  will  one  day  spring  to  life 
and  vigour. 

I  am  convinced  that  Carmen  Sylva's  biographers, 
past,  present  and  future,  will  one  and  all  be  angry 
with  me  for  now  destroying  one  of  their  favourite 
illusions,  an  innocent  error,  but  still  an  error,  which 
has  been  again  and  again  recorded.  The  Queen  of 
Roumania's  marriage  was  no  love  affair.  It  is 
understood,  of  course,  that  all  royal  marriages  are 
brought  about  by  love,  and  when  some  one  dares  to 
assert  the  contrary  he  or  she  is  at  once  accused  of 
heresy.  No  sooner  is  a  royal  marriage  announced 
than    newspapers    and    magazines    start    a    regular 

15 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

steeplechase  amongst  them  in  associating  the  projected 
union  with  a  medley  of  anecdotes,  and  they  vie 
with  each  other  as  -to  which  shall  be  most  fortu- 
nate in  securing  thrilling  accounts  of  the  mutual 
love  binding  the  happy  couple.  Why  this  absurd 
habit  has  taken  hold  of  tradition  I  have  never  been 
able  to  find  out.  Do  nations  really  desire  to  be 
ruled  only  by  happy  sovereigns  and  loving  husbands 
and  wives .''  If  this  idea  does  indeed  exist,  why  not 
rather  credit  their  kings  and  queens  with  virtues 
or  qualities  sufficiently  attractive  to  render  them 
capable  of  acquiring  in  the  course  of  their  married 
lives  the  love  that  it  is  not  their  lot  to  gain  when 
they  exchange  their  rings  ?  I  can  truthfully  assert 
that  I  do  not  know  of  more  than  one  or  two  real 
love  marriages  between  royal  pairs,  whereas  I  have 
seen  many  royal  couples  become  extremely  attached 
and  even  devoted  to  each  other  in  the  end,  and  in 
my  opinion  this  result  is  more  to  their  credit  than 
if  all  the  legendary  romances  which  are  circulated  on 
the  slightest  rumour  of  an  illustrious  betrothal  were 
true.  The  Queen  of  Roumania  herself  is  always 
willing  to  relate  how  she  became  acquainted  with 
her  future  husband,  and  how  her  marriage,  without 
being  in  the  least  a  romance,  was  from  beginning  to 
end  treated  in  a  very  matter-of-fact  way. 

"  I  am  afraid  some  writers  have  tried  to  make  us 
out  a  very  idyllic  and  rather  ridiculous  couple,  and 
I  still  shudder  when  I  read  that  old  tale  of  the  stair- 
case, as  worn  and  haunting  now  as  a  ghost  story.     I 

i6 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

have  quite  lost  the  courage  to  deny  it,  as  it  has  been 
repeated  so  many,  many  times  !  ...  At  Berlin,  while 
on  a  visit  to  the  Queen  of  Prussia,  afterwards 
Empress  Augusta  of  Germany,  I  had  just  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  Prince  of  HohenzoUern,  who  is  now 
your  King  and  my  husband.  Then  many  years  went 
past,  finding  me  sad  and  despondent.  My  youth 
had  been  blighted  by  the  presence  of  suffering  and 
death,  but  my  soul  felt  warm  and  rich  with  such 
impulses  of  self-devotion  as  would  have  made  me 
an  excellent  nurse  or  an  excellent  mother.  I  longed 
to  find  some  means  of  employing  my  suppressed 
energies,  and  lived  on  in  the  hope  of  seeing  more  of 
the  world  and  its  struggles.  Many  princes  proposed 
to  me  at  that  time,  but  only  one  amongst  all  the 
potentates  who  sued  for  my  hand  tempted  my  fancy, 
though  I  had  never  seen  him.  He  was  a  widower 
and  the  father  of  many  children.  Many  children — 
I  could  immediately  satisfy  my  heart's  desire  .  .  . 
But  my  mother  was  against  the  match,  and  the 
whole  affair  was  dropped.  .  .  .  The  Great  Duchess 
Helena  often  wrote  to  my  mother,  and  I  learned 
afterwards  that  together  they  had  laid  out  many 
plans  for  my  future  of  which  I  was  kept  in  complete 
ignorance.  One  day  at  Cologne,  where  we  had  gone 
to  spend  a  few  hours  and  listen  to  a  Beethoven 
Festival,  we  met,  by  mere  accident^  as  I  was  hastily 
informed  by  my  mother,  the  reigning  Prince  of 
Roumania,  Prince  Charles  of  Hohenzollern-Sigma- 
ringen.     We  were   staying    that    afternoon    at  the 

17  B 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Hotel  du  Nord  which  can  be  seen  as  the  train  crosses 
the  Cologne  station — I  never  pass  on  my  way  to 
Germany  without  remembering  vividly  every  word 
of  the  interview  there  which  settled  my  fate.  I  was 
very  glad  to  meet  the  Prince  of  Roumania  again,  as 
he  had  been  much  talked  about  in  my  presence  of 
late,  and  I  knew  he  had  won  his  way  to  the  throne 
among  political  perils  almost  as  great  as  the  perils 
of  war.  He  had  crossed  Austria  in  disguise  because 
the  Austrian  Government  had  objected  strongly  to 
his  election.  In  the  small  garden  of  the  Hotel  du 
Nord,  where  the  beautiful  towers  of  the  cathedral 
threw  their  shadows  upon  us,  I  poured  eager  ques- 
tions into  his  ears  without  even  casting  a  glance  at 
his  refined  and  regular  features,  and  he  patiently 
answered  every  one  of  my  inquiries.  He  told  me 
about  his  difficult  task,  and  about  the  exotic  country 
that  had  become  his  own,  its  wide  plains  and  savage 
mountains,  its  white-clad  peasantry,  frugal,  grave, 
and  endowed  with  weird  powers  of  untaught 
eloquence  and  poetry.  He  spoke  long  and  well, 
while  I  listened  breathlessly,  rapt  in  astonishment 
and  delight.  He  described  the  great  masters  of  the 
land,  those  boyards,  cultivated  yet  barbarous  in  mind 
and  customs,  whose  souls  were  alive  with  the  blended 
charm  of  the  Byzantine  influence  and  the  hot  blood 
of  old  Latin  descent.  I  envied  the  young  sovereign 
who  had  taken  up  a  sceptre  whose  maintenance 
required  as  firm  a  grasp  as  a  sword,  and  I  said  to 

him  openly  :  '  You  are  a  happy  man.' 

i8 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

"  *  And  the  concert  ? '  asked  my  mother  as  we 
went  up  to  our  rooms.  '  You  were  so  impatient  to 
go  to  the  concert  before  we  met  the  Prince.' 

"  '  The  concert .? '  I  repeated  in  utter  amazement. 
I  had  forgotten  all  about  the  concert !  '  O  Mother, 
you  can't  guess  how  deeply  interesting,  how  thrilling 
is  the  conversation  of  the  Prince  of  Roumania,  and 
how  I  envy  him  his  beautiful  task  !  Just  imagine, 
he  rules  a  nation  quite  new  to  the  world,  but  at  the 
same  time  ancient  in  blood  and  history  ;  and  he  has 
to  understand  them  and  to  make  them  happy.  A 
splendid  mission  indeed  ! ' 

"  *  Well,  my  child,  that  task,  that  mission,  might 
be  yours  also.  The  Prince  of  Roumania  wants 
to  marry  you.  He  has  come  here  with  the  sole 
purpose  of  meeting  you.  This  is  no  chance  en- 
counter, as  you  believe.  You  have  but  one  word  to 
say 

"  I  remained  perfectly  bewildered  for  a  fewseconds, 
then,  as  if  urged  on  by  the  resistless  impulse  of  my 
destiny,  I  answered  : 

*' '  Yes,  I  will  marry  him.  I  will  help  him  and 
follow  him  to  that  wonderful  land.' 

"Half  an  hour  afterwards  the  Prince  of  Hohenzol- 
lern  came  up  to  our  private  sitting-room.  He  kissed 
my  hand  as  he  entered,  and  my  lips  trembled  timidly 
for  one  moment  on  his  bowed  forehead.  Then  he 
knew  that  he  was  my  accepted  future  husband.  This 
time  he  did  all  the  talking  himself :  I  was  abashed 
and  silent,  but  still  intent  on  his  every  word.     Not 

^9 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

one  syllable  of  love,  not  one  stray  compliment,  was 
uttered  during  those  hours  whose  meaning  has  since 
thrown  a  light  over  my  whole  existence.  Ours  was 
no  love  marriage,  but  it  was  a  union  based  on  self- 
devotion,  duty,  and  a  fervent  desire  to  do  our  best 
towards  each  other  and  towards  the  nation  that  I 
already  loved. 

"  That  very  evening  the  Prince  went  back  to  Rou- 
mania  ;  he  was  to  return  in  three  weeks  and  then 
take  me  back  with  him  as  his  wife.  Once  he  had 
gone,  the  spell  was  broken.  I  passed  sleepless  nights 
and  restless  days  pondering  upon  the  step  I  had  so 
rashly  taken,  and  wondering  what  the  future  would 
be  by  the  side  of  one  all  but  unknown  to  me  in  an 
unknown  country,  far  from  all  my  relatives  and 
friends — so  desperately  far  !  I  had  seen  so  little  of 
him.  In  my  memory  even  his  face  and  his  voice 
were  not  clearly  engraved,  and  for  hours  I  studied 
his  portrait  and  tried  to  read  his  soul  in  his  eyes. 
What  would  the  descendant  of  the  stern  Hohenzol- 
lerns  be  like  in  feelings  and  opinions,  and  would 
not  mine  startle  and  even  offend  him.^*  In  secret  I 
was  a  poet  already,  and  I  had  acquired,  by  frequent 
communion  with  clever  people  in  my  own  home  and 
the  home  circle  of  the  Grand  Duchess  Helena,  the 
liberal  ideas  of  equality  and  democracy  which  now- 
adays bear  the  name  of  Socialism.  I  understood 
how  startled  the  Prince  of  Roumania  might  be  when 
he  realised  all  this,  since  the  chains  of  tradition 
were  strongly  entwined  about  his  principles  and  the 

zo 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

traditions    of    his    race,    so   that   these    reflections 
well-nigh  appalled  me." 

But,  had  she  reflected  more  deeply  than  she  did 
at  that  period  of  her  betrothed  life,  Princess  Elizabeth 
of  Wied  would  perhaps  have  discovered  that  there 
must  exist  in  the  soul  of  Prince  Charles  ground  open 
to  the  influx  of  democratic  feelings.  She  would  have 
remembered  that  he  was  not  only  of  a  lineage  high 
among  the  highest  and  proud  among  the  proudest, 
a  family  made  glorious  by  the  great  events  of  history; 
he  represented  not  only  the  Hohenzollerns  stern  and 
brave,  but  also  the  glory  and  lustre  gathered  on 
modern  battle-fields  by  warriors  of  humble  birth  if 
splendid  renown,  and  that  the  strain  of  commoner 
French  blood  flows  in  the  veins  of  Roumania's  King. 
Only  a  few  years  before  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  his  French  great-grandmother,  Fanny 
Mouchard,  played  a  conspicuous  and  not  always 
dignified  part  in  the  French  Revolution,  being  mixed 
up  with  all  the  riotous  people  of  the  time.  Her  wit 
and  amiability,  however,  withthe  fact  of  her  becoming 
related  to  the  Emperor  through  Josephine's  marriage, 
won  for  her  a  position  such  as  her  birth  and  conduct 
alone  could  never  have  acquired.  She  often  drove 
Napoleon  wild  with  her  off-hand  manners  and  ivapori 
airs,  with  her  habit  of  writing  verse  of  her  own 
compositioo,  such  as  this  : 

"  Egle  belle  et  poete  helas !  n'a  qu'un  travers 
EUe  fait  son  visage  et  ne  fait  pas  ses  vers." 

That  this  bizarre  heroine  should  have  become  the 

21 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

mother  of  a  line  of  Kings  is  one  of  the  marvellous 
incidents  of  the  epic-comedy  played  in  France  by  the 
Revolution  and  the  First  Empire. 

Again,  the  King,  through  his  paternal  grand- 
mother, belongs  to  the  stalwart  peasantry  of  France, 
whence  her  finest  heroes  have  sprung.  His  grand- 
mother was  a  Murat,  sister  of  the  gallant  King  of 
Naples  who,  as  every  one  knows,  was  once  a  stable- 
boy  in  a  country  inn  of  the  Aveyron  department. 
That  inn  still  exists,  and  many  are  the  travellers  who 
stop  there  and  dream  about  the  wondrous  fate  of 
the  stable-boy  who  became  a  King,  only  to  die  the 
death  of  a  forsaken  man  at  the  Calabrian  wells. 

Thus  the  Queen  might  have  been  almost  sure  of 
her  husband's  sympathy.  The  great-grandson  of 
Fanny  Mouchard  could  not  but  love  poets  and  poetry; 
the  great-grandson  of  the  Aveyron  stable-boy  must 
have  inherited  from  his  ancestor  the  democratic  ideals 
which  changed  a  Revolution  into  a  Republic  and 
then  into  an  Empire. 

Has  Elizabeth  of  Roumania  kept  the  promise 
registered  in  her  heart  on  that  early  autumn  day 
when  she  was  first  acquainted  with  her  future  husband 
and  her  fate  ^  Now  that  so  many  years  have  gone 
by,  her  subjects,  without  a  dissentient  voice,  can 
answer  'Yes.'  From  the  moment  of  her  arrival  in 
her  new  country  to  this  hour  her  life  has  been  a 
constant  effort,  a  constant  labour  of  love  on  behalf 
of  her  people.  Patiently  and  without  ceasing  she 
listens  to  the  throbbing  of  their  veins,  to  the  wants 

22 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

and  aspirations  of  a  race  she  has  tried  so  hard  to 
understand  that  she  has  almost  become  a  Roumanian 
herself.  When  she  reached  the  banks  of  the  Danube, 
when  before  her  dazzled  sight  white-clad  peasants 
made  their  appearance,  wearing  carved  silver  knives 
in  their  belts  and  big  peacock  feathers  on  their  high 
fur  caps ;  when  in  brilliant  costumes  the  women 
rushed  forth  to  meet  her,  veils  thin  as  the  mountain 
mists  floating  round  their  proud  features,  and  dis- 
taffs trembling  on  their  bosoms ;  when  the  gaily 
attired  village  beauties  danced  the  national  dances 
before  her  to  the  sound  of  a  rude  violin  ;  when  dis- 
hevelled and  ragged  tziganes  played  tunes  a  thousand 
years  old,  yet  fresh  with  the  eternal  youth  of  inno- 
cence, then  Elizabeth  believed  her  own  life  would 
be  like  an  eternal  pastorale.  And  at  once  she  gave 
her  heart  to  the  rustic  crowds  whose  welcome  was 
showered  upon  her,  who  blessed  her  winning  smile 
and  her  ready  curiosity  to  learn  more  about  them 
and  their  village  homes.  Remembrance  came  to  her 
of  the  fair  and  simple  Queens  of  the  Iliad,  who, 
seated  in  the  midst  of  their  waiting-maids,  kept  vir- 
gins and  young  matrons  aloof  from  evil  company  or 
bad  thoughts,  by  teaching  them  to  weave,  to  spin, 
to  twist  golden  and  silken  threads  and  sew  stirring 
devices  on  banners  destined  for  brave  warriors  or 
the  altar.  She  bore  in  her  mind  that  thus  the  ancient 
Roumanian  Princesses  and  wives  of  illustrious  boyards 
had  reared  around  them  damsels  and  dames  of  gentle 
blood,    that  while  the  spindle   flew  and    the   wind 

as 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

carried  the  sound  of  bugle  and  church-bells,  they 
had  chanted  ballads  and  had  kept  alive  the  memory 
of  their  glorious  dead ;  and  her  poetic  soul  found 
joy  in  the  resurrection  of  a  noble  past.  No  one  will 
ever  know  or  appreciate  the  whole  extent  of  the 
labour  that  from  morning  to  eve  made  her  stoop 
towards  the  soil  from  which  she  drew  the  secrets  of 
the  race,  or  raise  her  head  to  the  sky  whence  faith 
and  inspiration  descended  upon  her  sacred  toil. 

When  I  met  the  Queen  for  the  first  time,  or 
rather  when  I  first  approached  her,  I  was  quite  a 
child.  I  had  often  seen  her  in  the  streets  of  our 
capital,  and  on  such  occasions,  though  only  five 
or  six  years  old,  I  felt  a  sharp  sensation,  as  of 
mingled  pain  and  joy,  and  all  my  small  being 
vibrated  to  the  shock.  The  flashing  smile,  the 
tender  and  compassionate  blue  eyes,  the  thick  wavy 
mass  of  hair  whose  movement  was  as  eloquent  as 
the  surging  tide,  and  perhaps  also  the  big  white 
plume  of  the  chasseur  seated  at  the  back  of  the 
carriage,  floated  before  me  like  a  vision  of  gran- 
deur and  delight,  whose  tracings  left  deep  golden 
furrows  in  my  mind.  Children  sometimes  adore 
secret  idols  whose  forms  loom  high  above  their  play- 
things and  dolls,  and  when  playthings  and  dolls  are 
quite  forgotten,  thought  of  the  ruling  god  or  goddess 
thrills  their  memory.  At  the  dawn  of  my  eighth 
year,  having  just  escaped  from  an  illness  so  dangerous 
that  the  doctors  had  given  me  up  and  I  had  remained 
as  one  dead  for  some  hours,  the  Queen  expressed  a 

24 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

desire  to  know  the  little  girl  who  during  six  weeks 
had  filled  her  parents'  souls  with  fear,  and  interested 
the  whole  of  Bucharest  society,  which  at  that  time 
formed  one  large  family.  With  shorn  hair  and  trem- 
bling knees  that  could  scarcely  bear  the  frail  load  of 
my  meagre  body,  pulling  hard  on  my  mother's  hand, 
I  mounted  the  great  staircase  of  the  Palace.  I  had 
completely  forgotten  in  delirium  and  fever  the 
radiant  image  which  had  enchanted  my  childish 
drives.  How  often  now  do  I  live  again  that  happy 
moment  when  with  panting  breath  and  wild  and  eager 
joy  that  must  have  transfigured  my  pale  face,  I  found 
the  idol  and  I  recognised  the  object  of  my  earliest 
dreams.  How  clearly  I  can  stir  the  chords  of  dor- 
mant sensations  and  revive  the  moist  perfume  of 
those  vast  rooms  with  green  plants  climbing  along  the 
golden  trellis  of  a  screen,  or  the  soft  murmur  of  the 
water  splashing  from  a  fountain  whose  waves  rippled 
into  a  stone  vase  and  fell  among  the  leaves.  But  all 
the  vivid  hues  of  hangings  and  foliage  seemed  to  con- 
centrate themselves  in  a  tall,  slender  form  that  stood 
in  their  midst.  The  Queen  wore  a  moss-green  velvet 
dress,  and  along  the  bottom  of  the  skirt  and  round  her 
sleeves  and  neck  ran  a  trimming  of  downy  grey 
feathers  which  trembled  with  every  movement,  every 
breath — I  can  see  even  now  the  fluttering  of  those  sil- 
very plumes.  The  radiant  face  stooped  towards  me  ; 
she  opened^her  arms  and  I  flew  to  her  bosom  like  a 
young  bird  to  its  nest.  Ah  !  had  we  known  then  what 
a  pledge  of  deep  affection  was  thus  exchanged  between 

*5 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  royal  lady  and  the  child  that  death  had  almost 
carried  away, — had  we  known  all  the  love  and  the  pain 
lurking  in  the  dim  future,  would  the  grasp  of  my  little 
hands  round  her  neck  have  relaxed,  would  she  have 
ceased  kissing  my  thin  cheeks  ?  Notwithstanding  all 
the  pain  that  that  future  has  brought,  I  can  with  truth 
say,  No  !  and  the  Queen's  answer  is  the  same. 

I  remember  every  word  of  that  interview,  and  how 
charmed  she  was  because,  when  she  wished  to  stop 
the  fountain  in  order  that  I  might  hear  the  birds 
sing  better,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  please  don't  !  I  suppose  the  dear  birds  sing 
only  to  please  the  fountain,  and  they  would  feel 
wretched  if  its  waters  were  hushed." 

Then  the  Queen  caressed  my  shorn  head,  and  I 
told  her  with  tears  in  my  eyes  how  my  long  hair  had 
been  cut  off  with  big  scissors  that  made  a  shiver  run 
over  my  skin ;  that  mother  had  put  them  under  my 
pillow,  and  how  I  caressed  them. 

'*  Never  mind,"  answered  Carmen  Sylva,  "  you  are 
a  good  little  girl,  and  good  little  girls'  hair  grows 
very  fast.  You  will  soon  get  your  long  hair  back 
again." 

*'  But  I  love  it — I  won't  have  any  other  long  hair 
because  the  hair  that  has  been  cut  off  might  be 
grieved  to  see  me  loving  other  long  hair." 

The  Queen  laughed  softly  at  these  words,  and 
murmured  :   *'  She  is  indeed  a  poet's  grand-daughter." 

After  this  visit  a  long  time  elapsed  before  I  saw 
the  Queen  again  ;  we  went  to  Paris  for  my  education, 

26 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

and  there  several  years  were  spent.  When  I  had 
arrived  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  however,  every 
summer  found  us  spending  three  weeks  with  the 
Queen  in  the  Castel  Polesch  at  Sinaia,  a  mansion 
built  by  the  King,  whose  aspect  presents  a  startling 
contrast  to  the  surrounding  landscape.  The  stern- 
looking  German  schloss  looks  like  a  challenge  thrown 
defiantly  to  the  mountains,  whose  dazzling  heights 
overtop  its  turrets.  The  heavy  edifice  of  grey  stone 
and  red  brick  proclaims  that  a  strong  will  rather  than 
artistic  taste  has  been  at  work  in  the  depths  of  the 
dark  Karpathians.  Like  some  mad  anachronism, 
Castel  Pelesch  rises  in  the  forest,  a  seal  of  taciturn 
power  affixed  to  the  wild  beauty  and  primitive  glory 
of  its  surroundings,  the  seal  of  the  Middle  Ages  and 
the  burgraves  from  whom  the  King  draws  his  descent. 
In  the  interior  the  same  silent  war  is  waging  between 
the  decorations  of  the  rooms  and  the  personages  who 
inhabit  them.  The  contrast  is  such  as  the  Crusaders 
must  have  created  when  in  the  sunlit  palaces  of  Asia 
they  strode  through  glittering  halls  to  the  silvery 
note  of  a  hundred  fountains  in  their  steel  armour 
and  tall  white  plumes. 

At  that  time  a  sense  of  logical  and  refined  art  was 
not  mine,  and  to  me  the  loveliness  of  the  Sinaia 
summer  dwelling  was  unsurpassed.  Even  now,  when 
I  can  judge  of  all  its  defects,  I  cannot  dwell  upon 
the  sweetness  of  the  spot  and  the  spell  it  threw  upon 
my  mind  without  feeling  again  the  thrill  of  pleasure 

and  gladness  with  which  1  traversed  its  rooms  and 

27 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

gazed  upon  the  rich  Rembrandtesque  colouring 
of  wood  and  velvet.  On  the  windows  ballads  and 
fairy  talcs  appear  in  the  deep  purple  and  azure  of 
stained  glass  ;  near  by  a  high  waterspout  rises  and  falls, 
whose  voice  is  associated  with  so  many  emotions  and 
dreams  that  it  seems  to  sing  its  answering  song  to 
me.  The  Queen  loved  her  mountain  home,  and 
lightly  paced  its  crimson-carpeted  corridors,  lit  up 
here  and  there  with  the  twinkle  of  a  golden  star  on 
wall  or  ceiling  ;  her  white  veil  trailing  behind  her, 
beautiful  and  serene,  she  would  talk  in  gay  tones  of 
the  latest  wish  of  her  poet's  or  her  Queen's  soul. 

At  the  age  when  youth  leads  us  to  the  brink  of 
every  desire,  at  the  age  of  ardent  labour  and  gentle 
idleness,  at  the  age  when  every  event  sinks  into  the 
depths  of  our  being,  I  became  the  Queen's  lady-in- 
waiting  and  companion  chosen  from  amongst  a  large 
number,  and  beloved  from  that  hour  as  if  I  had 
never  been  beloved  before.  This  implied  almost  com- 
plete separation  from  my  mother  and  family,  to  whom 
I  was  fervently  attached,  yet  I  scarcely  wept,  though 
I  saw  them  weep,  for  the  Queen's  society,  the  Queen's 
words,  the  Queen's  smiles  meant  all  to  me.  Num- 
berless are  the  entertainments,  numberless  the  ties, 
the  aims  I  have  willingly  given  up  for  her,  and  never 
have  I  grudged  the  moments  snatched  from  what 
others  thought  my  duty  ;  I  have  regretted  nothing, 
for  to  see  and  hear  her,  to  have  taken  an  active  part  in 
the  activity  of  such  a  life,  to  this  day  forms  the 
pride  of  my  existence. 

28 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

Many  have  loved  the  Queen — some  for  mere  joy 
in  receiving  favours  from  a  queen,  some  for  her  clear 
intelligence,  her  kindness,  her  gaiety.  I  loved  her 
and  love  her  still  for  the  many  hours  I  have  spent 
listening  to  the  outpourings  of  her  spirit,  watching 
her  daring  mind  as  it  soared  from  one  summit  to 
another,  borne  on  the  wings  of  an  imagination  vivid 
and  varied  as  the  hues  of  a  gigantic  rainbow.  At 
that  time  she  led  an  existence  which  literally  over- 
flowed with  activity  and  of  which  she  lost  not  a 
second :  and  her  splendid  health  allowed  her  to 
indulge  in  an  exuberant  extravagance  of  labour. 

"But  your  Majesty  is  an  intellectual  ogre,"  said 
the  great  German  sculptor  Begag  one  day  to  the 
Queen,  and  in  those  few  words  he  expressed  the  per- 
petual cravings  for  art  and  emotion  which  devour 
the  Queen. 

At  Sina'ia  the  quantity  of  work,  and  especially  of 
writing,  she  would  achieve  far  surpassed  what  even 
the  keenest  amongst  us  could  attain  to.  Many  a  time 
have  I  found  her,  at  eight  in  the  morning,  seated  in 
her  dressing-room  before  a  bureau  covered  with  a  huge 
heap  of  sheets  whereon  her  bold  writing  had  traced 
close  lines,  the  lamp  she  had  failed  to  extinguish  at 
sunrise  still  burning  by  her  side.  Near  the  manu- 
script twenty  letters  would  lie  filling  the  grey  enve- 
lopes on  which,  disdainful  of  royal  crown  or  arms, 
the  simple  words  "  Carmen  Sylva  "  were  engraved  in 
glossy  black  letters.  White  and  slim  in  the  folds  of 
her  snowy  garments  the  Queen  would  rise,  pass  her 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

hand  across  her  brow,  as  if  to  chase  away  the  visions 
that  had  arisen  there,  and  with  a  quick,  impatient 
gesture,  open  the  double  doors  that  led  to  the  balcony, 
letting  in  the  fresh  morning  breeze,  laden  with  sun- 
shine and  pine-wood  fragrance.  Wide  awake  to  her 
duties  as  a  sovereign,  she  would  eagerly  plunge  her 
hands  into  thick  masses  of  paper  newly  strewn  on 
the  sofa — requests,  entreaties,  desires,  passionate 
demands  for  help,  pity,  or  favour — that  like  a  flood 
mounted  each  morning  from  the  bosom  of  the  nation 
to  the  heart  of  the  august  lady  who  was  its  ruler's 
spouse.  With  a  look  of  scrutiny  and  unwavering  con- 
cern she  would  examine  and  enter  into  all  the  details 
of  the  different  matters  presented  for  her  decision. 

"  What  did  the  two  women  you  received  yesterday 
afternoon  want  from  me  ^  Have  you  been  able  to 
discover  why  one  of  my  ladies  looked  depressed  while 
we  were  having  tea,  and  did  you  inquire  whether  the 
medicine  I  had  prepared  myself  and  sent  to  the  second 
footman,  who  seemed  so  fagged,  has  done  him  any 
good  .''  And  the  porter's  little  boy — does  he  still 
suffer  .'*  Here  is  a  book  with  large  pictures  and  nice 
fairy  tales  for  him — wait,  I  will  write  my  name  upon 
it — let  him  know  it  comes  from  Mama  Regina — 
Mother  Queenie.  ...  I  should  just  love  to  play 
one  or  two  of  Bach's  preludes  now,  and  even  to 
sing  a  little,  but  we  have  so  much  work  here,  and  it 
must  be  attended  to.  See  .  .  .  what  does  this  poor 
prisoner  require  ?  Liberty,  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  I 
suppose.     Oh  !  to  think  that  there  are  captives  on 

30 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF   ROUMANIA 

such  a  day  as  this,  when  we  drink  so  freely  of  the 
balmy  air  !  .  .  .  And  this — this  is  from  a  widow — 
so  wretched,  so  poor — and  she  has  five  children — 
they  are  actually  starving — five  children  !  " 

A  sigh,  and  the  Queen  turns  her  head  away.  I 
read  her  thoughts  :  "  Five  children  and  poverty,  and 
I,  who  possess  palaces  and  millions,  had  only  one  little 
child,  and  it  was  taken  away  from  me." 

But  the  saddening  reflection  is  checked,  the  burning 
desire  crushed,  and  the  Queen  toils  through  the 
morning's  work  with  earnest  care.  Then  suddenly 
she  rises  and  steps  across  the  compartment  and  comes 
back  again — almost  the  only  morning  exercise  in 
which  she  indulges.  And  while  thus  going  to  and 
fro,  she  stops  from  time  to  time,  urged  by  her 
artist's  instinct  to  move  here  a  fold  in  the  drapery, 
there  a  pillow  on  the  arm-chair,  or  a  picture  in  a  bad 
light,  with  the  result  that  every  day  her  apartment 
wears  a  different  aspect  though  the  furniture  remains 
the  same. 

A  tray  laden  with  grapes  and  figs  lies  on  the  corner 
of  a  massive  bahut.  The  Queen  would  sometimes 
pull  one  or  two  out  of  the  crimson  or  golden  bunches 
and  ask :  "  Don't  you  want  some  .''  They  taste  so 
fresh  and  are  quite  ripe."  Then  she  returns  to  her 
literary  pursuits,  in  which  the  thought  of  making 
Roumanian  folk-lore  and  Roumanian  valour  known 
all  over  the  world  is  uppermost. 

"  I  am  about  to  compose  a  ballad,  and  think  I  have 
caught  a  beautiful  idea.  ...  A  young  girl  embroiders 

31 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

a  red  sash  for  her  betrothed,  who  has  gone  to  the  war. 
The  sash  must  be  so  red  that  nothing  in  nature  can 
be  redder  than  it.  So  she  takes  the  juice  of  all  the 
red  fruits,  and  the  colour  of  the  flames,  willingly 
yielded  up  to  her.  At  night  an  old  woman  comes  and 
offers  her  a  liquid  as  red  as  the  flame  and  as  the  juice 
of  fruit.  She  drinks  it,  but  lo  !  at  that  very  hour 
her  betrothed  is  killed.  The  old  woman  was  none 
other  than  grim  Death,  and  it  was  the  life-blood  of 
the  brave  soldier  she  gave.  But  what  shall  I  call  the 
young  girl  ?  Dimistra,  or  Stana,  rather.  I  cannot 
find  quite  the  right  name  for  her.  Do  search  in  an 
almanac,   or  in  Alexander's   legends.   .   .   ." 

"  Pardon,  Madam,  but  your  Majesty  will  be  late. 
It  is  almost  one.'*  These  words  are  demurely  said  by 
the  Queen's  first  maid,  as  the  worthy  dame  lifts  up 
the  heavy  curtains  separating  the  boudoir  from  the 
bed-room. 

"  Nearly  one,  and  we  have  such  a  lot  of  people  to 
lunch  !  This  is  distressing.  Run  and  dress,  little 
girl,  and  tell  all  the  others  to  dress  quickly,  as  I  shall 
myself"  ;  and  the  Queen  disappears  in  haste. 

Through  the  wide  corridors  there  is  a  rush  and  a 
scurrying,  and  we  do  not  stop  to  breathe  till  we 
reach  our  chambers.  Without  a  second's  hesitation 
our  maids  dash  forward,  undress  and  dress  us  again 
in  the  space  of  a  few  minutes.  They  do  their  office 
so  nimbly  that  the  intricacies  of  Roumanian  costumes 
are  speedily  vanquished,  and  we  are  amazed  to  find 
ourselves  fully  dressed    before  the  mirrors   in   the 

3* 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

brilliant  garb  of  village  maidens,  with  spangled  skirts 
and  blue  necklaces,  while  many-coloured  flowers 
dance  in  our  tresses. 

We  had  scarcely  taken  our  places  in  the  large 
reception-room  when  the  King  and  the  Queen  enter, 
the  Queen  dressed  in  the  rich  costume  of  a  rustic 
matron,  but  on  her  lithe  form  the  vestments  took 
on  an  appearance  of  Byzantine  pageantry,  and  she 
looked  more  like  an  Empress  than  a  wealthy  Rou- 
manian dame.  No  one  would  guess  that  her  day's 
task  was  not  begun  at  that  moment,  nor  could  she 
have  seemed  more  animated,  more  interested  in  the 
conversation  of  her  neighbours  at  table,  had  she, 
instead  of  being  awake  with  the  lark,  but  just  finished 
her  toilet  and  commenced  the  irksome  duties  of 
hostess  and  Queen. 

Two  hours  later,  dressed  in  a  short  mountain 
costume  of  dark  green  velvet,  she  is  scouring  the 
pine-clad  heights  around  the  castle,  running  along 
the  steep  paths  with  step  so  light  that  it  sometimes 
proved  difficult  to  follow  her.  She  would  wander 
along  the  deep  arcades  of  fir  and  hazel-trees,  try  to 
run  as  fast  as  the  torrent,  and  taunt  its  laughing 
waters  ;  then,  when  her  forces  were  well-nigh  spent, 
she  would  sit  down  on  a  well  and  gather  us  around 
her.  Then  she  would  open  wide  the  portals  of  her 
soul,  and  speak  of  life  and  of  all  the  people  she  had 
known  and  loved.  Once  I  remember  she  told  us 
about  her  first  meeting  with  the  Empress  Elizabeth 
of  Austria,  who  afterwards  became  her  close  friend. 

33  ^  <? 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

"  I  was  newly  married  and  very  shy.  We  went 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Emperor  at  Buda  Pesth,  in  the 
old  castle  he  inhabits  when  in  his  Hungarian  capital. 
1  was  feeling  quite  miserable  at  the  prospect  of 
meeting  the  lovely,  brilliant  Empress,  and  I  dared 
not  lift  up  my  eyes  when  her  husband  took  me  to 
her.  When  at  last  I  did  look,  I  discovered  that  the 
beautiful  lustrous  eyes  were  gazing  into  mine  with  an 
expression  of  timidity  and  distress  equal  to  my  own, 
and  we  smiled  on  guessing  our  common  plight,  and 
at  once  fell  into  easy  talk.  I  liked  her  strange  words 
and  her  strange  ways,  and  she  came  to  see  me  here. 
Just  imagine,  when  she  arrived  at  the  station  and  saw 
the  crowd  that  was  waiting  for  her,  she  would  not 
alight  from  the  train  !  She  hated  fuss,  and  the  King 
had  to  insist.  Then  when  she  saw  our  little  horses 
— you  know  the  dear  yellow  creatures  that  look 
exactly  like  the  palfreys  of  Odin  and  Thor — she 
exclaimed : 

" '  I'll  go  on  foot.  I  am  afraid  to  go  with  those 
horses  ;  I  am  afraid  of  driving  in  a  carriage.' 

"  '  But  the  castle  is  a  long  way  off.'   .   .   . 

"  '  It  does  not  matter.' 

"  I  smiled  to  see  this  brave  horse-woman  terrified 
of  my  sturdy  ponies,  but  on  foot  we  had  to  go,  fol- 
lowed by  all  the  people,  and  feeling  quite  dismayed 
at  giving  our  Imperial  visitor  such  a  welcome.  Yet 
she  liked  it  better  than  she  would  have  done  a 
gorgeous  train." 

After  the  strolls  in  the  mountain  forests  we  would 

34 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

return  to  the  castle,  and  then  the  Queen  would 
assemble  us  in  the  music-hall,  a  lofty  chamber, 
solemn  and  peaceful  as  a  cathedral,  where  she  read 
verse  or  prose  aloud  to  us,  and  made  the  organ 
thrill  beneath  her  fingers.  Her  ladies  in  dazzling 
attire  would  sit  in  an  erect  yet  dreamy  position  on 
the  high  wooden  chairs,  listening  till  the  rich  sounds 
entered  their  hearts  and  made  them  images  of  fervour 
and  rapt  attention. 

"To-day  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  all  the 
others  ;  to-day  I  belong  to  Beethoven,"  she  would 
say.  "  Can  you  understand  his  remaining  so  open 
to  human  passions  when  he  was  so  near  to  God  ? " 
Then  after  Beethoven  had  given  us  the  keenest  pangs 
of  his  genius,  Carmen  Sylva  would  take  up  a  book, 
and  in  her  mellow,  harmonious  tones  let  stanza  after 
stanza  drop  on  our  delighted  ears.  And  the  evenings 
of  these  glorious  days  were  calm  and  sweet.  They 
brought  us  moments  Carmen  Sylva  consecrated 
specially  to  each  of  us  in  turn.  She  encouraged  us 
to  speak  of  what  was  nearest  to  us,  our  homes,  our 
family  affairs,  our  hopes  and  difficulties  ;  she  guided 
and  counselled  us ;  she  drew  us  out  so  that  each  in 
turn  could  have  sworn  that  the  Queen  had  been 
peculiarly  touched  by  her  conversation. 

Court  life  and  society  have  such  an  established 
reputation  for  scandal  and  intrigue  that  they  seem 
beyond  redemption,  and  this  much  I  must  admit, 
that  in  Carmen  Sylva's  entourage  falseness,  back- 
biting and  ill-will  are  ever  at  work  and  ever  finding 

35 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

a  new  victim.  Carmen  Sylva  is  perfectly  aware  of 
everything  that  takes  place  around  her  ;  she  is  awake 
to  the  slightest  manifestation  of  spite  amongst  her 
companions,  but  she  holds  her  head  high  above  the 
abyss  whence  the  angry  murmurs  arise,  and  by  dint 
of  appearing  to  ignore  the  presence  of  evil,  she 
succeeds  in  destroying  its  near  effects.  She  is  by 
no  means  naturally  of  a  forgiving  disposition,  but 
her  reason  and  the  rectitude  of  her  heart  have  taught 
her  that  a  Queen  cannot  exhibit  rancour  without 
descending  to  the  same  level  as  those  who  have 
merited  her  anger.  She  has  achieved  a  victory  over 
herself  in  never  punishing  an  offence  inflicted  by 
jealousy  amongst  those  she  loves,  but  she  tries  hard 
to  enlighten  the  weakened  conscience  as  to  its  failure 
and  to  punish  the  guilty  only  by  showing  them  how 
disgraceful  are  their  faults.  In  acting  thus.  Carmen 
Sylva  seems  to  indicate  that  she  has  to  deal  only  with 
refined  natures  and  high  characters  merely  a  little 
spoilt  by  pride  or  envy.  This,  alas  !  is  not  always 
the  case. 

Accustomed  to  find  her  own  emotions  in  the  pure 
domain  of  spirituality,  the  Queen  imagines  that  in 
inflicting  spiritual  punishments  or  granting  spiritual 
rewards  she  has  done  her  best  towards  ensuring 
justice.  I  have  often  been  the  mute  and  amused 
spectator  of  such  deeds  as  have  proved  the  grandeur 
of  her  nature  but  sorely  disappointed  those  who 
expected  some  material  recompense.  In  the  same 
manner  she  would  act  when  displeased.     One  time 

36 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

a  young  girl  amongst  the  maids  of  honour  had  won 
from  her  Royal  mistress,  who  had  been  almost  a 
mother  to  her,  marks  of  disapproval,  and  I  had  often 
noticed  how  worried  the  Queen  felt  by  the  conduct 
of  the  unruly  damsel.  She  did  not  scold  but  looked 
grieved,  though  this  did  not  suffice  to  keep  the 
culprit  away  from  the  forbidden  ground. 

"  Oh,  I  am  going  to  punish  her — I  have  found 
such  a  punishment  for  her.  I  am  going  to  be  a 
wicked,  wicked  Queen."  These  words,  though  said 
in  mellow  tones,  made  me  tremble,  as  I  had  never 
heard  her  speak  thus,  moreover,  her  Majesty  went 
about  with  such  a  mysterious  air  that  I  more  than 
once  begged  her  to  spare  my  young  companion,  but 
she  only  went  on  saying  tenaciously  to  the  tune  of  a 
nigger  song:  "A  wicked  Queen,  a  wicked  revengeful 
Queen."  My  curiosity  and  my  anguish  increased. 
I  could  not  discover  what  the  terrible  vengeance  was 
to  be  or  when  the  dreadful  day  prophesied  by  the 
"  wicked  Queen  "  would  come. 

And  when  it  did  come,  oh,  shall  I  ever  forget  the 
humiliation  of  that  hour  !  "Here  is  my  vengeance," 
said  the  Queen,  and  she  raised  in  her  uplifted  hands 
a  large  sheet  of  paper.  "  A  letter,"  I  thought  to 
myself,  "  a  dismissal,  cruel  indeed,  and  harsh,"  and 
tears  rushed  to  my  eyes  as  I  thought  of  the  rash 
girl,  a  lonely  orphan,  who  would  be  torn  from  luxury 
and  affection,  and  sent  out  again  into  the  dreary 
world.     I  waited  in  dumb  silence. 

"  I  have  been  sitting  up  for  twelve  nights  to  get 

37 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

it  ready  sooner  and  make  it  more  beautiful.  Look." 
And  she  placed  the  large  paper  on  my  knee.  It  was 
an  immense  piece  of  parchment  on  which  she  had 
daintily  painted  miniature  pictures  representing 
scenes  from  the  New  Testament :  these  formed  a 
frame  round  the  text  written  in  golden  letters. 

"  Oh  how  she  will  feel  the  scourge  and  bitterness 
of  my  wrath,"  said  the  Queen,  "  and  how  she  will 
repent  when  she  finds  out  that  while  she  was  giving 
me  such  dire  trouble  I  was  working  for  her,  I  was 
toiling  for  the  benefit  of  her  soul.  This  will  prove 
her  greatest  treasure  on  earth.  It  is  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount,  the  Divine  lesson  preached  by  our 
Saviour  himself.  But  why  do  you  kneel  ?  Yes,  the 
pictures  are  small,  you  are  short-sighted." 

"  Very  short-sighted,  Madam,  and  I  must  see 
every  one  of  them,"  and  I  went  on  looking  at  the 
beautiful  painting  and  the  gilded  text.  The  Queen 
little  guessed  that  I  was  kneeling  before  her  own 
beautiful  soul  that  now  stood  revealed  in  all  its 
splendour  before  me. 

Carmen  Sylva,  who  sometimes  laughingly  calls 
herself  "  Donna  Quixota,"  takes  a  real  pleasure  in 
humiliating  her  enemies  by  the  generosity  of  her 
forgiveness.  Thus  she  says  :  "  I  am  not  as  good  as 
I  appear,  I  assure  you.  I  am  exactly  like  the  Pope's 
mule  in  that  charming  little  tale  of  Alphonse 
Daudet.  The  mule  only  kicked  her  foe  seven  years 
after  he  had  inflicted  bitter  injury  upon  her.  I 
kick — after    seven    years'    silence     and     sometimes 

38 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROU  MANIA 

more — but  I  never  kick  vigorously.  My  favourite 
vengeance  is  a  very  harmless  one,  I  force  people  to 
act  as  they  speak,  to  live  up  to  their  principles ;  I 
take  every  word  they  say  for  a  sincere  expression  of 
their  desires.  This  means  some  cruelty  on  my  part, 
because  in  our  presence  they  don  not  only  their  best 
dresses  but  their  most  high-flown  sentiments.  They 
give  vent  to  a  lot  of  noble  aspirations  which  are 
carefully  put  aside  in  everyday  life.  The  most 
frivolous  young  dame  pretends  she  loves  solitude, 
books,  and  the  company  of  her  husband  and  children; 
the  ambitious  tell  me  that  they  simply  desire  modest 
incomes  and  a  place  of  quiet  retirement ;  so  when- 
ever I  am  able  to  do  so  I  give  the  giddy  young 
woman  an  excellent  opportunity  of  looking  carefully 
after  her  home  and  spending  studious  afternoons ;  I 
force  the  ambitious  man  to  content  himself  with  the 
joys  of  the  existence  whose  charms  he  described  to 
me."  But  the  Queen  makes  a  great  mistake  when 
she  declares  herself  capable  of  hurting  a  human 
soul  ;  this  I  have  never  seen  her  do  either  by  act  or 
word,  and  she  is  absolutely  good,  good  to  such  an 
extent  that  those  who  feel  really  attached  to  her  are 
often  wont  to  be  more  indignant  with  her  equa- 
nimity than  moved  by  her  unspeakable  kindness. 

The  Queen's  constancy  to  her  friends  is  absolute, 
no  one  can  undo  her  attachments,  and  she  remains 
faithful  to  those  she  loves  even  when  she  has  not 
seen  them  for  years.  One  of  the  great  secrets  of 
her  deep  affection  for  me — an   affection  which  the 

39 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Queen  has  been  pleased  to  call  one  of  the  most 
fervent  in  her  life — lies  in  the  comprehension  I  gained 
of  her  peculiar  habits  of  mind.  From  the  very 
beginning  of  our  intercourse  I  understood  that  the 
only  means  of  keeping  up  the  w^arm  interest  she 
showed  me  lay  in  the  trouble  I  took  to  put  aside  all 
personal  animosities  and  never  to  mention  any  one 
in  her  presence  as  having  done  a  bad  deed  or  as 
being  distasteful  to  me.  She  has  never  been  able  to 
suspect  me  of  a  pang  of  jealousy  or  fit  of  ill-vi^ill 
towards  my  equals  or  my  inferiors.  For  this  effort 
to  resemble  her  in  some  way,  for  the  perpetual  strain 
imposed  on  my  feelings  and  aversions,  I  have  been 
thanked  and  rewarded  a  thousand  times  by  the 
acknowledgment  and  appreciation  of  the  Queen. 

"  I  bless  you,  my  child,"  she  said  one  day,  and 
she  crossed  her  slim  fingers  upon  my  head,  "  I 
bless  you  because  you  have  never  cut  off  a  single  ray 
of  warmth  and  light  that  I  have  poured  out  of  my 
heart."  And  of  this  I  may  truly  declare  that  I  am 
proud,  for  have  I  not  respected  in  the  Queen's  soul 
all  the  errors  of  her  beautiful  altruism,  all  her  ideals, 
however  dangerous  I  may  have  found  them,  however 
certain  I  might  have  felt  that  they  were  being 
imposed  upon  her  by  impostors  and  mischief-doers .'' 

In  every  life  there  is  generally  one  predominating 
misfortune,  one  ruling  pain  in  which  all  other  mis- 
fortunes take  their  source,  and  by  which  every 
intervening  pain  is  fed.  The  tragedy  of  Carmen 
Sylva's  life  dates  from   a  day  when  the  winter  dawn 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

was  about  to  gild  the  roof  of  [the  Royal  Palace  in 
Bucharest,  The  oppressed  city  was  not  sleeping,  it 
felt  an  infant's  heavy  breathing  lie  on  its  bosom  and 
the  breasts  of  thousands  heaved  with  fervent  prayer,  i 
All  the  land  was  praying  that  the  Royal  child  might 
be  saved,  and  the  parents  spared  the  awful  anguish 
of  losing  her.  And  in  the  room  where  the  first 
glimmerings  of  the  March  morning  penetrated,  by 
the  bedside  of  her  darling  the  mother  knelt  and 
whispered :  "  My  God,  my  God,  can'st  Thou  not 
spare  me  the  bitterness  of  this  bitter  hour  ?  I  know 
that  this  is  Passion  Thursday  ;  all  over  this  land, 
with  the  prayers  that  go  up  to  Thee  for  my  child's 
life,  we  pray  Thee  to  remember  that  on  this  very  day 
Thou  suffered  for  us  and  wept  as  I  now  weep,  and 
'wiped  the  drops  from  Thy  brow  as  I  now  wipe  them 
from  mine.  Wilt  Thou  take  her  from  me  ?  Must 
I  lose  her .?     My  God,  my  God,  Thy  will  be  done, 

and  yet,  and  yet  it  seems  too  hard."  ~" 

And  as  the  mother  spoke,  the  dying  child  mur- 
mured softly  :  *'  It  is  so  sweet,  so  beautiful.  Mother 
dear.  I  see  a  garden  and  all  the  gardens  I  have 
loved,  all  the  gardens  of  this  darling  land,  I  see 
them  ....  I  am  so  thirsty — bring  me  water  from 
Sina'ia — show  me  the  tapering  towers  of  the  Cotrocius 
Church — they  are  like  spiders  ....  I  am  so  happy. 
O  my  darling,  darling  Roumania  !  "  And  the  child 
went  forth  into  the  gardens  that  she  saw  and  drank 
from  the  source  of  Eternal  Life  the  cool  mountain 
water  for  which  she  thirsted. 

41 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

The  red  tinged  hour  of  dawn  had  now  spread  its 
glory  over  the  bewildered  city.    The  day  was  indeed  a 
\     Passion  Thursday,  and  the  nation  who  were  mourning 
for  their  God  mourned  also  over  the  little  child  they 
had  loved  so  well  that  no  other  Royal  child  will  ever 
reign  in  our  people's  heart  with  the  same  supremacy 
as  did  "  Little  Princess  Marie."     The  small  vivacious 
body,  whose  lightness  and  glee  had  been  in  the  eyes 
of  all  like  a  sun-ray  dancing  on  the  water;   the  pure 
angelic  head   where  masses  of  golden   hair  rippled  ; 
the  fragile  dwelling  of  a  marvellous  bright  soul,  were 
laid  to  rest  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  within  Cotrocius 
Park,  where  she  had  loved  to   play.     There  in  the 
bosom  of  the  earth,  whose  slumber  is  ever  lulled  by 
the  distant  murmur  of  the  town,  a  chapel  was  built 
wherein  a  marble  statue  reposes  showing  the  rounded 
limbs,  the  small  feet  whose  steps  wandered  such  a 
short  time  in  the  gardens  of  life,  the  eager  little  hands 
which  gathered  so  few  flowers  among  the  flowers  of 
earth.     On  the  grassy  mound   outside  a  white  cross 
throws  its  straight  shadow,  and  on  the  shadow  of  that 
cross  Queen  Elizabeth's  heart  is  crucified.     Like  the 
green  mould  cut  in  twain  by  that  shadow,  her  heart 
is  cut  in  twain  by  the  form  of  that  simple  cross.    Her 
bosom  bears   the   load  of  that  stone,  and  the  little 
mound  of  Roumanian  soil  where  her  child  is  buried 
rises  high  before  her  eyes,  higher  than   the  highest 
mountain,  till  it  has  hidden  all  the  future  from  her 
view. 

But,  armed  with   desire  to  be  stronger  than  the 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

strength  of  her  fate,  the  Queen  has  lived  on  and  done 
her  duty  as  if  from  that  hour  all  her  hours  had  not 
been  void  of  hope  and  light ;  as  if  the  smiles  fond 
mothers  lavish  upon  their  children  and  receive  from 
them  again  did  not  sink  as  deeply  into  her  wounded 
flesh  as  the  form  of  that  heavy  marble  cross  which 
lies  so  cold  upon  her  life.  She  to  whom  such  a  por- 
tion of  human  bliss  has  been  denied,  has  at  least 
tasted  all  the  savour  of  heroism  and  mute  despair. 
Sometimes  it  seems  to  have  made  her  seek  the  means 
of  suffering  more  and  more. 

"  Oh,  the  first  children's  ball  at  which  I  presided 
after  her  death — scarcely  one  year  after !  Oh,  the 
music  of  that  ball — it  whirls  yet  in  my  memory. 
The  pattering  of  the  little  feet  struck  on  my  heart 
like  a  rain  of  fire.  And  I  held  my  arms  open  and 
the  little  children  came  to  me  and  nestled  in  my 
bosom.  Each  of  them  reminded  me  of  her — one 
had  her  way  of  kissing,  another  almost  spoke  with 
the  accents  of  her  voice  ;  yet  in  each  of  them  I  missed 
her  grace,  the  smile,  the  vivacity  which  were  her  own. 
Oh,  I  was  meant  to  be  a  mother  !  I  was  created  to 
create  a  human  creature,  to  sustain  and  love  a  human 
soul  derived  from  my  own  soul.  I  see  nothing  in 
nature  or  in  living  beings  that  is  not  destined  to  be 
continued  and  to  love  itself  in  another  being  born 
of  its  own  essence." 

We  often  spent  hours,  the  Queen  and  I,  at  the  top 
of  the  small  hill  where  the  chapel  rises,  above  the 
gardens  open  to  the  last  dying  blasts  of  winter  winds 

43 


KINGS  AND   QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

or  the  first  warm  breezes  of  summer.  On  such 
occasions  the  (^ueen  would  silently  point  out  a  bench 
to  me,  whilst  she  stayed  beside  the  mound  cut  in 
twain  by  the  shadow  of  the  cross.  The  crows 
shrieked  madly  around  us,  the  din  of  the  city  mounted 
like  the  murmur  of  a  lazy  sea,  and  the  fitful  clamour 
of  bugles  and  trumpets  rose  lightly  on  the  air.  In 
the  circular  path  that  winds  thrice  round  the  tomb 
the  Queen  walked  slowly,  looking  into  her  own  heart 
and  unravelling  the  Past. 

'*  To  think  that  I  have  been  that  happy  woman  who 
was  a  mother  while  she  lived.  To  think  I  was  almost 
the  same  as  I  am  to-day,  and  I  walked  towards  her 
with  these  same  feet  that  now  carry  me  to  her  tomb, 
that  I  held  her  little  neck  with  these  same  hands  that 
now  stoop  towards  the  dust  where  she  reposes.  To 
think  I  was  that  woman  I  see  in  the  Past  who  held 
her  little  girl  on  her  knees  and  showed  her  the  sun 
and  the  moon  and  the  carriages  in  the  streets — I 
was  that  woman,  and  I  did  not  scream  aloud  with 
joy !  .  .  .  Oh  !  I  know  she  is  not  here — she  is 
where  mystery  abides  and  supreme  bliss,  and  yet 
she  is  here  with  me,  she  is  in  me  as  much  as  in 
the  days  when  I  bore  the  happy  weight  of  her 
unknown  sweetness." 

Apart  from  the  sadness  ever  reigning  in  her  soul, 
Carmen  Sylva  is  cheerful,  while  the  force  and  resis- 
tance of  her  nerves  is  astonishing.  She  brings  to 
bear  upon  everything  that  comes  in  her  way  a  most 
astounding  amount  of  interest,  pity  or  enthusiasm. 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

In  a  word,  she  represents  the  most  constant  human 
vibration  that  womanhood  may  boast  of.  Her 
powers  of  absorption  and  production  are  equal. 
When  she  listens  to  music  it  is  wonderful  to  note  on 
her  face  the  sensations  roused  in  her  soul  by  the 
different  instruments  till  she  herself  becomes  a  part 
of  the  harmony  expressed. 

Most  of  the  Queen's  misfortunes  have  been  due 
to  her  ignorance  or  disdain  of  the  rude  realities  of 
life  ;  yet  whenever  she  has  had  to  face  them,  she 
proved  a  match  for  circumstances  whether  dreadful 
or  pleasant.  During  the  1877-78  Russo-Roumano- 
Turkish  war  she  proved  an  admirable  sister  of 
charity,  tending  the  wounded  with  the  same  care  as 
the  professional  nurses  who  aided  the  surgeons  in  the 
dreary  hospital  wards.  One  bright  autumn  after- 
noon, as  we  were  sitting  round  the  Queen  while  she 
painted  some  Biblical  scene  in  a  small  prayer-book, 
she  was  brought  to  talk  of  the  days  when  she  first 
began  her  apprenticeship  as  a  nurse. 

*'  I  was  at  home  anxiously  waiting  for  news  from 
Plevna.  All  at  once  some  one  rushed  in  and  said  : 
'  They  have  arrived  ! '  '  Who  ?  New  soldiers  going  to 
Plevna  .'' '  '  No,  the  wounded,  those  who  have  been 
cured  and  those  who  must  die.' 

"  I  immediately  understood  that  my  help  would  be 
necessary.  In  a  few  moments  I  had  caused  all  the 
wine  that  was  in  our  cellars  to  be  taken  to  them,  and 
had  my  own  sleigh  piled  with  counterpanes  and 
pillows  and  all  I  could  secure  in  the  way  of  wrappings. 

45 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1   HAVE  KNOWN 

It  was  a  bitter  afternoon.  The  snow  fell  in  large  heavy 
flakes  as  our  horses  travelled  swiftly,  and  the  blast 
cut  our  eager,  trembling  faces.  .  .  .  Oh,  the  fright- 
ful scene  that  we  saw  when  we  reached  the  hospital  ! 
All  the  yard  was  full  of  carts  whence  the  poor 
sufferers  were  being  borne  up-stairs — some  of  them 
lay  on  the  steps  and  moaned — blood  was  spreading 
over  the  newly  fallen  snow.  Surgeons  and  nurses 
went  from  one  group  to  the  other.  I  followed  them. 
...  A  little  later  we  had  succeeded  in  establishing 
a  long  row  of  beds  in  the  upper  hall,  and  here  I 
worked  as  hard  as  the  others,  so  that  the  wounded 
soon  considered  me  as  a  nurse.  Rank  and  eti- 
quette were  quite  forgotten.  Very  often  my  dress 
was  stained  with  the  same  blood  that  had  been  so 
freely  spilt  on  the  Bulgarian  plains,  and  my  shoul- 
ders were  often  sore  from  uplifting  the  heads  of 
the  dying.  O  poor,  poor  children  !  How  many  of 
them  I  saw  depart  ;  and  while  I  gently  crossed  their 
hands  on  their  bosoms  I  would  think  of  the  anxious 
mothers  and  wives  awaiting  them  in  the  snowy  vil- 
lages afar  off  and  with  weary  fingers  counting  the 
days  of  that  woeful  winter  which  took  so  many 
heroes  away." 

While  the  Queen  was  speaking,  the  glorious  beauty 
of  that  autumn  afternoon  had  reached  its  climax. 
All  around,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  light  danced 
upon  the  sunlit  branches  and  into  the  dazzling 
mountain  wells.  A  strong  perfume  came  from  the 
earth  and  the  trees,  and  the  force  of  the  Roumanian 

46 


QUEEN  ELIZABETH  OF  ROUMANIA 

soil  was  in  that  perfume,  and  while  the  Queen  spoke 
it  seemed  to  answer  : 

"  Blessed  be  thou,  O  Queen  !  Can  my  children 
ever  forget  those  days  when  thou  wert  a  mother  to 
them  ?  Wilt  thou  ever  cease  to  be  thy  people's 
Mother,  a  Queen  beloved  amongst  all  other  Queens  ? 
Blessed  be  thou  for  the  red  drops  that  decked  the 
snow-white  purity  of  thy  dress,  blessed  be  thou  for 
the  sacred  bruises  the  heads  of  the  dying  pressed  into 
thy  gentle  bosom.  What  Queen  of  the  Past  or  what 
future  Queen  will  be  through  history  alike  unto  thee, 
O  blessed  Queen  !  " 


4-7 


Photo  /'I'  /)<>7(';/<f 


KING  EDWARi;  VII.  AND  QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

The  arrival  of  a  Royal  visitor  at  a  foreign  Court 
is  always  an  event  of  much  importance,  especially 
if,  as  in  the  case  of  King  Edward's  visit  to  Roumania 
a  few  years  ago,  the  illustrious  guest  be  unknown  to 
the  august  couple  who  are  to  entertain  him  during 
several  days.  Moreover,  the  Prince  of  Wales,  as  he 
then  was,  had  chosen  a  season  when  the  presence  of 
foreign  Sovereigns  at  our  Court  was  unusual,  and 
the  problem  was  a  hard  one — how  to  make  him  spend 
his  time  pleasantly  in  the  summer  residence  of  the 
King  ?  Of  course,  the  usual  official  programme 
would  have  to  be  adhered  to,  but  our  Queen  felt 
strongly  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  should  be  received 
with  some  novel  form  of  entertainment,  so  that  he 
might  carry  back  with  him  a  pleasing  recollection  of 
a  country  whose  situation  and  destinies  had  hitherto 
been  so  widely  different  from  those  of  all  other 
European  nations.  Besides,  her  Majesty  was  always 
anxious  to  spare  her  fellow  sufferers — that  is  to  say 
Royal  Princes  and  Princesses — the  monotonous  pro- 
cess of  seeing  the  same  festivities  everywhere,  and  thus 
gathering  from  their  travels  little  genuine  delight. 

51  D 


KINGS  ANH  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

On  the  other  hand,  we  did  not  know  much  about 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  although  we  had  read  frequent 
descriptions  of  his  tastes  and  habits.  But  as  we  were 
all  aware  that  a  Prince's  character  is  familiar  only  to 
those  who  approach  him  daily,  and  that  there  is  little 
reliable  information  to  be  gathered  on  this  subject 
from  newspapers  and  reports,  the  heir  to  the  English 
throne  was  quite  a  stranger  to  us.  No  one  could  tell 
what  kind  of  entertainment  would  be  most  agreeable 
to  one  who  had  seen  half  the  world,  who  had  visited 
India,  and  spent  several  months  every  spring  in  the 
French  capital.  When  asked  to  give  my  opinion  of 
the  arrangements  made  for  the  Prince's  visit  I  was 
much  perplexed,  and  I  was  reduced  to  declaring  that 
to  my  mind  nothing  seemed  more  natural  or  more 
courteous  than  to  pursue  the  usual  course — that  is, 
to  offer  his  Royal  Highness  as  many  excellent 
dinners  and  gorgeous  luncheons  as  he  could  swallow 
during  his  short  stay,  show  him  a  fair  number  of 
military  pageants,  take  him  for  as  many  walks  and 
drives  through  the  beautiful  forest  as  he  would  care 
to  undertake,  and  then  close  the  whole  series  of  re- 
ceptions by  a  big  party.  Moreover,  the  weather  was 
sultry,  though  October  was  at  hand.  The  Prince 
would  certainly  feel  grateful  for  not  being  put  out 
by  new  arrangements,  and  would  no  doubt  prefer 
the  familiar,  though  monotonous,  formalities  with 
which  he  had  been  acquainted  since  his  childhood. 

The  Queen  looked  daggers  at  me  as  I  wound  up 
by  saying  that  we  should  probably  discover  also  that 

5* 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

we  were  all  incapable  of  inventing  anything  new  or 
attractive  enough  in  the  way  of  theatricals,  dances, 
or  picnics.  Her  Majesty  immediately  arose  and 
declared  that,  if  the  heat  had  deprived  us  of  all  our 
initiative  and  courage,  she  herself  was  not  disposed 
to  fall  asleep  or  to  allow  the  Prince  to  find  his 
sojourn  in  Roumania  dull  and  tedious.  In  vain  I 
argued ;  in  vain  I  pointed  out  that  the  date  of  the 
Royal  visit  came  close  upon  the  day  when  the  Queen 
was  due  at  the  manoeuvres,  where  the  King  specially 
desired  her  presence  ;  in  vain  did  I  try  to  prove  how 
delighted  the  Prince  would  be  by  the  surrounding 
landscape,  by  the  wildness  of  the  rocks  and  moun- 
tains under  their  floods  of  golden  sunshine.  The 
Queen's  face  wore  a  look  of  determination  whose 
meaning  I  could  guess. 

I  did  not,  therefore,  feel  astonished  when  next 
morning,  a  few  minutes  after  sunrise,  I  was  sum- 
moned to  her  apartments.  For  these  early  inter- 
views the  Queen  was  in  the  habit  of  striking  a  few 
notes  on  the  piano,  and,  as  my  sitting-room  was 
situated  just  above  her  Majesty's  boudoir,  I  imme- 
diately obeyed  and  ran  downstairs.  The  Queen  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  her  face  full 
of  joy. 

"  Eureka  !  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  pleased.  I 
have  hit  on  such  a  beautiful  idea  !  And  without 
your  help,  too !  On  the  contrary,  you  lazy  thing, 
you  tried  to  thwart  and  discourage  me.  But  now  I 
will  have  my  own  way." 

S3 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

"  And  what  is  this  marvellous  idea,  madam,  may 
I  ask  ? " 

"  Tableaux  vivants." 

"  Tableaux  vivants  ?  "  I  repeated,  in  a  subdued 
roice,  yet  in  tones  of  respectful  criticism. 

"  Yes,  tableaux  vivants." 

"  But  the  Prince  of  Wales  must  have  seen  thou- 
sands of  tableaux  vivants  in  his  life." 

"  Don't  be  silly  !  These  tableaux  vivants  will  be 
quite  unlike  any  he  has  ever  seen,  or  any  one  else 
either." 

I  failed  to  understand  and  said  so. 

"  Wait  till  I  explain.  The  tableaux  will  represent 
a  charade,  and  the  initials  of  the  words  of  the  charade 
will  be  our  guest's  own  title — '  Prince  of  Wales.' 
The  subject  of  each  tableau  will  begin  with  one  of 
the  letters  of  those  three  words.  There  are  thirteen 
letters  in  the  words  ;  therefore  you  will  have  thirteen 
tableaux,  and  a  fourteenth  which  will  represent  the 
Prince  of  Wales  himself,  or  one  of  his  predecessors, 
because  all  the  subjects  of  these  tableaux  will  be  taken 
from  the  history  of  England  or  from  English  fiction. 
Now  go  back  to  your  room  and  let  me  work." 

In  the  calm  solitude  upstairs,  where  I  could  look 
out  upon  the  neighbouring  forest,  whose  dark  green 
foliage  was  already  reddened  by  the  twofold  colour 
of  the  autumn  leaves  and  the  sunlight  striking  softly 
down  the  sloping  glades  and  pathways,  my  first  care 
was  to  take  down  the  two  volumes  of  Macaulay's 
"  History  of  England  "  and  cast  a  glance  over  their 

54 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

engrossing  pages.  But  my  search,  though  careful, 
was  without  result,  as  I  could  find  no  personages 
who  seemed  suitable  for  parts  to  be  played  in  our 
projected  tableaux.  As  I  let  the  books  fall  upon 
the  carpet,  and  was  about  to  turn  to  some  other 
occupation,  the  Queen,  whose  light  tread  I  had  not 
heard,  appeared  at  my  side,  holding  in  her  out- 
stretched hands  a  heap  of  papers  on  which  her  firm, 
bold  writing  had  traced  something  which  resembled 
nothing  so  much  as  a  plan  of  battle. 

"  Look  here  !  Each  tableau  will  represent  an 
episode  from  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  See  !  All 
the  initials  of  the  names  will  form  the  letters  of  the 
three  words  *  Prince  of  Wales ' :  Perdita,  Richard  III., 
Imogen,  and  so  on.  Now,  telegraph  to  all  the  people 
who  are  likely  to  accept  our  invitations.  Here  is 
also  a  list  of  the  people  I  want  you  to  ask  to  help  us. 
Tell  them  to  come  to  Sina'la  by  the  next  train. 
There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

"  And  the  manoeuvres,  madam  ?  1  suppose  your 
Majesty  intends  to  give  up  the  manoeuvres  ? " 

"  By  no  means.  I  never  give  up  an  iota  of  what 
I  deem  my  duty — we  shall  be  able  to  arrange  every- 
thing beautifully,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  what  says  the  King  ? " 

"  The  King  allows  us  to  arrange  the  performance, 
but  under  one  condition — rather  a  severe  one.  He 
must  totally  ignore  our  doings  ;  the  official  life  of 
the  castle  must  remain  perfectly  undisturbed,  and 
when  the  Prince  of  Wales  arrives,  should  he  feel  at 

55 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

all  fatigued,  the  representation  must  not  be  even 
mentioned.  The  tableax  vivants  are  not  to  be  put 
down  in  the  official  programme.  '  Dura  lex,  sed 
lex,' "  said  the  Queen  ;  and  she  sighed  softly. 

I  was  quite  taken  aback,  not  to  say  terror-stricken, 
at  these  words.  If  the  Prince's  curiosity  should  fail 
to  be  awakened,  our  plans,  our  labour,  which  I 
imagined  might  prove  hard,  would  be  perfectly  use- 
less, and  I  vowed  to  myself  that  in  some  way  such  a 
catastrophe  could  and  should  be  avoided.  The  great 
day  was  fast  approaching.  First  was  to  come  the 
Queen's  visit  to  the  vast  plain  where  the  manoeuvres 
took  place.  Then  the  King's  intention  was  to  pro- 
ceed to  Bucharest  and  show  his  capital  to  the  Prince 
of  Wales.  Afterwards  the  Prince  was  due  at  SinaYa, 
where  our  grand  reception  was  being  prepared. 

While  the  train  was  briskly  carrying  us  to  the  field 
of  the  manoeuvres  we  were — both  the  Queen  and 
myself — absorbed  in  thought,  deep  and  serious  in- 
deed, but  in  no  way  connected  with  military  pursuits. 
On  one  side  of  the  carriage  stood  the  King,  sur- 
rounded by  generals,  colonels,  and  equerries-in- 
waiting,  expounding  the  merits  of  a  new  cannon  or 
a  new  gun.  On  the  other  side,  but  a  few  steps  apart, 
the  Queen  was    exchanging  with    me  such   typical 

remarks  as   these  :    *'  Has  Mr.  V received   his 

wig  ?  "     "  Miss  Z does  not  hold  her  head  well ; 

and  the  flower  in  her  hair  should  be  red,  not  blue." 
"  We  must  tell  Othello  to  look  just  a  little  bit  more 
savage." 

56 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

A  couple  of  minutes  in  a  swift  landau  brought  us 
on  to  the  plain,  where  bayonets  and  sabres  were 
glistening  under  the  glare  of  the  scorching  sun. 
But  neither  the  sound  of  trumpets  echoing  from 
hill  to  hill,  nor  the  mad  rush  of  cavalry,  nor  the 
roar  of  the  cannon  could  divert  our  minds  from  tlieir 
preoccupation.  Flags  waved,  shrill  commands  pierced 
the  sultry  air,  regiments  were  poured  like  water 
from  the  distant  horizon  till  they  reached  the  landau 
where  the  Queen  sat  waiting  and  waving  her  hand- 
kerchief, but  we  saw  nothing  before  our  eyes  save 
the  little  theatre  where,  even  during  our  absence,  the 
improvised  actors  were  busy.  Even  when  the  Queen 
followed  the  King  along  the  pathway  opened  for  the 
Royal  pair  amid  the  cheering  soldiers,  the  Queen, 
without  ceasing  for  one  moment  to  bow  and  to 
appear  interested  in  everything  she  saw,  turned  to 
me  and  muttered  :  "  We  have  no  Falstaff  yet.  Do 
try  and  discover  among  your  acquaintances  some  one 
who  might  be  a  good  FalstafF.  I  am  afraid  we  shall 
not  be  back  before  evening,  but  I  hope  they  are 
doing  their  best  without  us.  But  it  is  annoying  to 
have  been  compelled  to  leave  the  castle  on  the  eve 
of  such  a  day.  Now,  I  suppose,  we  shall  be  obliged 
to  sit  up  the  whole  night." 

Towards  twilight  the  Royal  train  bore  us  back  to 
the  castle,  while  the  King  proceeded  to  Bucharest. 
Slowly  in  the  soft  haze  of  the  evening  light  we 
ascended  the  steep  route  :  a  cool  wind  was  rising, 
and   the   new-born    moon   floated    in  the  gorgeous 

57 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

autumn  sky.  Between  the  station  and  the  castle, 
notwithstanding  the  pace  at  which  the  postillion  was 
driving  his  four  stalwart  horses,  we  found  the  road 
long,  and  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  as  the  castle,  illu- 
minated like  some  fairy  vision,  at  last  burst  upon 
our  sight.  The  postillion  sang  a  wild  song,  and 
joyful  greetings  came  from  trumpets  and  voices  to 
tell  the  sleepy  mountain  forests  that  their  Queen 
was  returning  to  them  under  the  rays  of  the  young 
moon. 

We  stop  upon  the  threshold — the  huge  doors  are 
wide  open — the   Queen  suddenly  arrests  her  steps, 
and  an  exclamation  of  amazement  and  delight  falls 
from    her   lips.      I    follow  quickly  upon  her  heels. 
The  sight  she  beholds  is  a  glorious  one  indeed,  and 
one  which  I  shall  never  forget.     There  in  the  high 
hall,  where  knights  in  armour  form  a  range  of  spec- 
tators against  the  gilded  walls,  all  the  glory,  all  the 
glamour  of  the  past  seems  to  rise  before  our  dazzled 
eyes.      There  is   Mary  Queen  of    Scots,   and   quite 
close  to  her,  heedless  of  all  anachronism,  seeing  that 
she   is  but  the  daughter  of  a  poet's  dream,  there  is 
Perdita.     Here  Richard  III.  stands  grim  and  resolute, 
while    Shylock    turns  a   friendly  smile    upon    him. 
Cleopatra,  in  gorgeous  robes  of  purple  and  yellow, 
walks  hand  in  hand  with  Oberon  ;  the  gay  group  of 
the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  cluster  round   King 
Lear,   and    Cordelia  leans  upon  the  arm  of   Mary 
Tudor.     In  the  case  of  two  of  the  tableaux  we  have 
been  obliged   to  abandon  Shakespeare   for    Schiller 

58 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

and  Victor  Hugo  ;  thus  is  explained  the  presence  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  Mary  Stuart,  and  Mary  Tudor. 

As  "  Carmen  Sylva  "  had  foretold,  we  slept  very 
little  that  night.  When  I  went  up  to  my  room, 
instead  of  seeking  repose  after  the  awful  fatigues  of 
the  day,  I  had  to  sit  down  and  compose  the  French 
verses  to  be  recited  before  each  tableau ;  and  the 
first  grey  streaks  of  dawn  decked  the  sky  before  the 
final  stanzas  were  committed  to  paper.  Overcome 
by  weariness,  giddy  and  dazed,  I  fell  asleep  and 
dreamed  of  a  vast  battlefield,  through  the  expanse  of 
which  a  man  dressed  in  glistening  red  armour  rode 
at  full  speed.  I  awoke  to  hear  bugles  and  trumpets 
sounding  a  shrill  march  under  our  windows.  The 
troops  in  the  castle  were  now  astir.  Already  in  the 
hall  my  companions,  dressed  in  crisp  white  muslin, 
were  awaiting  my  arrival,  and  were  afraid  that  I 
might  be  too  late.  "  Make  haste  !  make  haste  !  " 
they  cried :  "  we  are  soon  going  to  the  station." 
It  was  even  warmer  than  yesterday ;  the  night  had 
brought  no  coolness.  How  we  pitied  the  unfortu- 
nate Prince,  who  had  to  travel  and  perform  so  many 
wearisome  details  of  etiquette  in  such  a  furnace!  "It 
will  remind  him  of  India,  perhaps,"  we  said.  "  Let 
us  give  him  flowers  and  look  our  gayest  ;  the  sight 
of  white  dresses,  joyous  faces,  and  bright  flowers  may 
refresh  him." 

The  arrival  of  the  Prince  took  place  in  the  usual 
manner,  to  the  accompaniment  of  music,  military 
salutes,   speeches,  and   official  greetings.     We  were 

59 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

all  presented  to  the  heir  of  Queen  Victoria,  and  wc 
noticed  that  he  looked  courteous  and  pleasant  in 
spite  of  the  circumstances.  Then  we  were  imme- 
diately told  that  the  Prince  would  lunch  and  take 
tea  with  the  King  and  Queen,  and  that  we  should 
see  nothing  of  him  before  dinner.  So  we  had  the 
whole  afternoon  to  ourselves,  and  great  was  our 
delight  when  we  returned  to  the  quiet  of  our  cool 
apartments  and  felt  free  to  taste  a  few  hours  of  well- 
earned  repose. 

My  dog,  a  beautiful  yellow  setter,  lay  stretched 
on  the  carpet  at  my  feet,  and  my  mother  was  sitting 
on  the  threshold  of  the  balcony,  intent  on  a  piece  of 
dainty  embroidery.  Ada  (that  was  the  dog's  name) 
did  not  inhabit  the  Royal  stable,  but  was  a  daily 
visitor  there.  We  were  now,  however,  anxious  to 
keep  her  from  running  about  the  staircases  and 
perhaps  meeting  the  King,  to  whom  her  presence 
might  cause  annoyance.  But  on  that  particular 
afternoon  Ada  looked  the  picture  of  utter  laziness 
and  comfort,  and  her  golden  eyes  gazed  at  us  with 
an  air  of  perfect  tranquillity  and  content.  We  little 
guessed  the  important  part  she  was  to  be  called  upon 
to  play,  and  were  chatting  about  the  reception  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  wondering  whether  in  the  end 
he  wouldexpress  any  desire  to  seethe  tableaux  vivants. 
"  It  is  a  shame,"  I  was  saying,  "  that  the  Prince 
should  be  unaware  of  all  the  worry  the  rehearsals 
have  caused.     I  am  convinced  that  he  would  insist 

on  seeing  the  representation  if  he  only  knew " 

60 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

I  had  not  time  to  finish  the  sentence  before  Ada 
darted  towards  the  door,  pushed  it  open,  and  rushed 
along  the  corridor,  followed  by  our  distressed  but 
vain  appeals.  "  Ada,  come  back!"  we  cried  ;  "  come 
back  instantly  !  "  We  dared  not  call  too  loud,  because 
the  castle  was  plunged  in  absolute  stillness  ;  but  we 
followed  the  truant  downstairs,  and  arrived  in  time 
to  see  her  throw  herself  down  at  the  feet  of  a  gentle- 
man dressed  in  a  plain  grey  suit,  who  was  smoking 
a  cigar  at  an  open  window,  and  whom  I  mistook  for 
one  of  the  Prince's  equerries.  The  dog  began  to 
overwhelm  the  unknown  gentleman  with  caresses, 
and  I  must  say  that  her  impertinence  seemed  to  give 
him  pleasure.  Suddenly  he  cast  a  glance  upon  us 
as  we  stood  panting  and  aghast  before  him,  and  he 
immediately  took  in  the  situation. 

"  You  want  to  get  this  beautiful  creature  back  to 
her  room,  do  you  not  ^  Please  let  me  help  you. 
Dogs  are  fond  of  me,  and  perhaps  even  this  one  will 
obey  me  better  than  you." 

There  was  so  much  easy  grace  and  composure  in 
the  tone  in  which  these  words  were  spoken  that  I 
felt  startled,  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  stranger's  visage, 
and  recognised  the  Prince  of  Wales  ! 

I  made  a  low  curtsey.  "  Miss  Vacaresco,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,"  said  his  Royal  Highness ;  "  and  this 
is  Madame  Vacaresco,  your  mother,  I  am  sure,  for 
you  are  so  very  much  alike." 

And  as  I  expressed  my  surprise  that  the  Prince 
remembered    my  name,  which   he  had  heard   men- 

6i 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

tioned  only  once  that  morning  at  the  station,  he  said, 
*'  I  have  an  excellent  memory — a  real  treasure  for  a 
Prince.  Now,  Ada,  go  back  with  your  mistress. 
You  must  go  back  ;  I  am  accustomed  to  be  obeyed. 
You  have  seen  me,  caressed  me,  delighted  me — you 
are  one  of  the  smartest  young  ladies  I  have  met.  Is 
not  that  compliment  enough  ?  Now  go  back."  And 
with  quiet  authority  the  Prince  touched  the  dog's 
collar.  Ada,  as  if  mesmerised  by  the  words  and 
action,  crept  back  to  her  place  by  our  side  and 
seemed  willing  to  follow  us.  So  we  had  nothing 
more  to  do  but  to  thank  and  curtsey,  and  leave  the 
Prince  to  his  reverie  and  cigar.  He  extended  his 
hand,  and  we  were  on  the  point  of  retiring  when, 
with  some  hesitation,  the  Prince  advanced  again 
toward  us. 

"  There  is  something  I  want  to  say  to  you,"  he 
said.  "  This  is — I  must  call  it  so — a  most  fortunate 
incident.  I  see  you  love  dogs.  I  have  a  dog  here 
with  me — my  little  Beatie,  whom  I  call  Beatie  '  the 
Traveller,'  because  he  always  accompanies  me  on  my 
journeys.  But  now  the  poor  little  thing  is  an  invalid. 
Will  you  come  and  see  him  .''  He  is  lying  in  my 
sitting-room.  His  paw  was  caught  in  the  door  of 
the  railway-carriage,  and  he  has  suffered  dreadfully. 
He  has  had  to  be  left  a  good  deal  alone,  and  he 
loves  society." 

The  Prince  opened  the  door  of  his  large,  com- 
fortable sitting-room,  and  here  little  Beatie  came  to 
meet  us  and  make  friends  with  Ada.     The  animal, 

6a 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

a  charming  white  lupetto,  limped  badly,  and  his  paw 
was  carefully  bandaged. 

*'  Could  you  not  let  Ada  stay  with  him  while  we 
are  having  tea  ?  "  inquired  the  Prince. 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  answered  my  mother.  **  Besides 
I  can  remain  here  with  them,  as  I  do  not  care  much 
about  functions  and  official  receptions." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  the  Prince,  "  What  would  you 
say  if  you  were  in  my  place  .^ " 

Beatie  was  now  on  my  knees,  and  feeling  quite  at 
home  with  us.  A  sudden  inspiration  seized  me,  and 
I  began  to  talk  to  the  dog.  "  Does  Beatie  know 
that  we  have  prepared  a  beautiful  series  of  tableaux 
vivants  for  Beatie's  master  to  enjoy,  and  that,  if 
Beatie's  master  does  not  express  his  desire  to  see 
them,  the  tableaux  will  not  be  represented,  and  we 
should  feel  very  disappointed  indeed  }  " 

These  words,  apparently  idly  said,  seemed  to  be 
as  idly  listened  to,  but  when,  a  few  hours  later,  we 
saluted  the  Prince  of  Wales  downstairs,  I  noticed 
that  the  Queen's  brow  wore  a  gleam  of  triumph, 
and  she  said  :  "  You  know,  my  children"  (she  always 
addressed  her  young  maids-of-honour  as  '*  my  chil- 
dren "),  *'  the  Prince  says  he  has  brought  a  very 
clever  little  dog  called  Beatie  to  Roumania,  and 
Beatie  has  asked  the  Prince,  *  My  master,  how  are 
you  going  to  spend  the  evening  of  your  first  day  in 
Sina'ia  } '  And  this  question  the  Prince  has  repeated 
to  me.  I  suppose  you  all  guess  what  I  have  answered," 

The  witty  and  delicate  way  in  which  he  had  arranged 

63 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

matters   at   once   made   the   Prince   dear  to  all  the 
juvenile  party  assembled  round  him. 

The  famous  tableaux  vivants  proved  an  immense 
success,  the  more  so  because  his  Royal  Highness, 
who  almost  from  the  beginning  had  guessed  the 
words  of  the  charade,  graciously  pretended  to  be  at 
his  wits'  end  and  completely  puzzled.  At  last  the 
closing  scene  brought  FalstafF  and  the  Prince  of 
Wales  (afterwards  Henry  V.)  under  his  eyes,  and 
the  following  lines  were  recited  ; 

"Toi  qui  comme  ton  peuple  en  buvant  dans  son  verre, 
O  Prince  alligre  et  sage,  O  vainqueur  d'Agincourt, 
Regarde  un  autre  Prince,  espoir  de  I'Angleterre, 
Ainsi  que  toi  digne  de  son  amour." 

The  Prince  was  deeply  moved  and  thanked  me 
heartily. 

"I  will  never  forget  you,"  said  he;  "you  have 
loved  my  dog,  and  you  know  the  proverb,  '  Love 
me,  love  my  dog.'  And  the  lines  in  which  you  so 
strongly  bring  out  a  resemblance  between  myself  and 
one  of  England's  most  glorious  Kings  appeal  so 
strongly  to  my  soul  that  I  should  like  to  keep  them 
as  one  of  the  best  omens  I  have  ever  known.  Please 
write  them  down  for  me.  I  must  have  them  written 
in  your  own  hand,  and  I  will  show  them  to  my 
mother  and  to  the  Princess;  they  will  both  be  as 
grateful  to  you  for  them  as  I  am.  You  are  well 
aware,  if  you  have  heard  anything  of  myself  and  my 
character,  that  these  words  in  my  mouth  are  not  idle 

64 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

words."  In  fact,  the  very  next  day,  during  a  long 
walk  we  took  in  the  mountains,  the  Prince  more 
than  once  came  and  walked  by  my  side,  asking  me 
many  questions  about  my  country  and  my  own 
pursuits,  and  telling  me  a  good  deal  about  himself 
and  his  own  experiences  as  a  traveller  and  as  a  Royal 
heir. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  been  a  most  fortunate 
man — heir  to  a  great  throne  and  yet  able  to  enjoy 
liberty.  I  have  an  admirable  mother,  an  exquisite 
wife  and  charming  children,  a  whole  nation — nay, 
many  nations  in  one — to  love  and  please.  I  some- 
times wonder  how  I  manage  not  to  become  selfish 
and  hard-hearted.  Yet  I  pity  misery  and  want,  and 
when  I  have  seen  an  anxious  and  worried  face  I  cannot 
sleep  before  I  have  inquired  into  the  cause  of  the 
poor  creature's  distress.  I  catch  very  vivid  impres- 
sions when  I  travel,  and  I  daily  write  to  the  Princess 
such  descriptions  of  landscapes  and  people  as  I  can 
well  cram  into  a  letter  of  reasonable  length.  She 
keeps  these,  and  could  one  day  make  a  book  out  of 
my  travelling  notes.  I  wish  you  could  see  the  Prin- 
cess. She  possesses  a  soul  as  perfect  as  her  face, 
which  you  must  know  is  very  sweet  and  beautiful." 

How  strenuous  would  prove  the  efforts  of  the  new 
King  in  the  interests  of  his  people,  how  high  his  ideal 
of  a  monarch  would  rise,  1  was  able  to  discover  in 
the  course  of  many  conversations  with  his  Majesty. 
"  No  one  can  tell,"  he  said,  "  the  vast  difference  which 
the  change  of  position  must  create  between  an  Heir- 

6S 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

Apparent  and  the  Sovereign  he  afterwards  becomes. 
I  feel  persuaded  that  even  my  face  will  change  when 
I  become  a  king.  I  fervently  desire  that  the  moment 
will  be  long  in  coming.  I  know  I  am  in  many  ways 
rendering  real  service  to  my  country  as  Heir-Appa- 
rent. I  thus  become  acquainted  not  only  with  the 
people  of  England,  but  with  all  the  interesting 
people  abroad.  I  have  learnt  the  organisation  of 
every  State,  and  many  a  foreign  politician  has  de- 
veloped his  plans  and  methods  and  views  in  my 
presence.  There  is  nothing  like  travelling  to  form 
the  mind  of  a  Prince,  and  I  have  always  loved  going 
from  land  to  land.  How  your  country  has  reminded 
me  of  India  !  The  feeling  that  I  shall  never  go  to 
India  again  is  very  strong  within  me,  and  it  saddens 
me.  You  cannot  imagine,  even  in  your  dreams,  the 
beauty  of  India  and  its  lasting  splendour.  My 
mother,  the  first  Empress  of  that  marvellous  Empire, 
has  never  visited  it,  though  in  her  heart  she  has 
often  desired  to  do  so." 

Then,  while  the  Prince  thus  spoke,  I  put  a  sudden 
question  which  somehow  seemed  to  startle  him  : — 

"  Sir,  dare  I  ask  your  Royal  Highness  to  tell  me 
this  :  are  Princes  happier  than  other  men  ^  " 

"What  is  your  own  opinion.-*"  he  replied. 
"  Before  I  answer  I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

*'  O  sir,  I  am  convinced  they  are  a  thousand  times 
happier,  though,  of  course,  grief  must  come  to  them 
through  the  same  causes  as  to  others.  But  the  cares 
of  the  Crown  and  the   people  are  not,  I  am  sure,  a 

66 


KING  EDWARD  VII 

load  added  to  affliction.  On  the  contrary,  greatness 
helps  to  bear  affliction.  Greatness  brings  with  it  a 
strong  desire  for  life,  a  keen  enjoyment  of  its  cares 
and  toils." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,"  answered  the  Prince. 
"  I  do  not  think  that  Princes  are  more  liable  to  feel 
grief  than  other  mortals ;  nor,  indeed,  to  feel  it  to 
the  same  extent.  You  see,  if  we  are  really  awake  to 
the  calls  of  our  position  and  its  innumerable  duties, 
we  have  no  time  to  nourish  our  emotions ;  and  then 
there  is  a  great  consolation  in  the  certainty  that  so 
many  share  your  sorrows  or  your  joys.  For  instance, 
I  have  on  the  whole  been  a  very  happy  man — a  per- 
fectly happy  man  ;  yet  this  does  not  mean  that  I  have 
not  often  mourned  and  grieved." 

These  and  similar  reflections  revealed  King 
Edward's  strong  and  cheerful  mind ;  a  mind  which 
openly  rejects  hypocrisy,  cultivates  gaiety  and  self- 
possession,  deems  the  best  courage  to  be  that  kind  of 
moral  courage  to  which  every  hour  and  duty  of  the 
day  is  precious — the  highest  quality  of  a  Sovereign. 

The  Prince  left  after  three  days'  sojourn  among 
the  Karpathians.  "  I  shall  never  forget  you,"  said 
he  again,  before  he  mounted  the  steps  of  his  railway 
carriage  ;  '*  I  shall  never  forgot  your  words  and  their 
good  omen." 

The  remembrance  of  these  scenes,  to  which 
memory  clings  so  warmly,  was  strong  upon  me  when 
I  saw  the  King  and  Queen  enter  the  choir  of  West- 
minster Abbey  on   the  glorious  morning  of   their 

67  E 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Coronation.  As  I  stood  there  and  gazed  upon  the 
admirable  scene  I  prayed  with  fervour  for  the  happi- 
ness of  both  Sovereigns,  while  the  august  and  radiant 
pair  received  the  blessings  of  Heaven  on  their  bowed 
heads,  and  while  the  mingled  voices  of  cannon,  bells, 
and  organs  were  bearing  the  good  news  from  village 
to  borough  all  over  the  land  and  beyond  the  seas. 


68 


QUEEN    ALEXANDRA 

Almost  all  the  Queens  of  Europe  possess  an  indivi- 
duality of  their  own,  are  celebrated  for  some  peculiar 
quality  which  springs  up  before  the  mind  as  soon  as 
their  names  are  mentioned.  Unfortunate  indeed  is 
that  sovereign  lady  who  takes  her  place  in  history  by 
virtue  of  her  office  alone,  who  has  not  succeeded  in 
winning  the  real  popularity  so  lavishly  accorded  a 
Queen  or  Queen  Consort  of  essential  beauty  or  indi- 
viduality of  character.  Whatever  may  be  her  official 
virtues,  her  private  merit,  "  for  her  no  minstrel's 
bosom  swells  " :  she  has  no  hold  on  the  imagination 
of  a  people. 

We  are  accustomed  to  connect  with  the  late  Em- 
press of  Austria  her  wild  desire  for  liberty  and  space, 
her  solitary  walks  through  glades  and  mountain  paths, 
her  love  of  the  sea  and  of  castles  lost  amid  parks  as 
wild  as  those  which  protected  the  unhaunted  slumber 
of  the  Sleeping  Beauty.  The  name  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth of  Roumania  can  scarcely  be  mentioned  without 
its  recalling  the  tall  white  form  of  a  Royal  poet, 
awake  from  early  dawn  to  gather  material  for  her 
songs  by  long  gazing  on  the  towering  heights  of  the 

69 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Karpathians,  that  encircle  her  beautiful  dwelling. 
Maria  Christina  of  Spain,  again,  is  the  sagacious, 
prudent  Queen,  the  devoted  mother,  the  resolute 
Sovereign  of  a  land  difficult  to  rule.  It  would,  in- 
deed, have  been  impossible  to  trace  a  portrait  of  her 
without  some  touches  of  austerity  had  we  not  found 
she  presented  such  a  contrast  between  the  smiling 
gentleness  of  her  eyes  and  speech  and  the  iron  fetters 
which  Fate  has  bound  around  her,  that  all  we  had 
heard  about  her  was  instantly  forgotten  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  radiant  vision  upon  which  we  gazed  one 
summer  day  at  Miramare.  Again,  the  name  of 
Queen  Margherita  of  Italy  suggests  at  once  beauty 
and  grace.  She  has  become  the  very  symbol  of  that 
sunny  land  where  her  first  appearance  was  greeted  as 
the  vision  of  a  fair-haired  Madonna. 

Some  of  the  younger  Royal  consorts,  such  as 
the  present  Empress  of  Russia  and  Queen  Helena  of 
Italy,  have  not  as  yet  acquired  a  hold  of  the  public 
imagination  :  they  do  not  enjoy  the  power  of  em- 
bodying a  legend.  This  must,  no  doubt,  be  attri- 
buted to  their  youth,  and  perhaps  also  to  the  retiring 
nature  of  both.  Yet  one  of  them,  the  Empress  of 
Russia,  is  Princess  of  the  Rhine — a  title  worthy  of 
any  ballad  and  one  which  in  itself  lends  attraction  to 
its  owner ;  while  the  second,  the  young  Italian 
Queen,  was  born  and  bred  in  a  poetic  ^home 
hidden  amongst  the  rocks  of  the  wild  Tchernagora. 
The  Queen  Consort  of  Greece  is  celebrated  for  her 
boundless    generosity  to   the   poor,   and   the   young 

70 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

Queen  of  Portugal  for  the  tender  care  with  which 
she  tends  little  children.  Her  Majesty  has,  in  fact, 
given  and  collected  the  means  wherewith  to  build  a 
large  hospital,  where  she  spends  a  few  hours  every 
day,  and  at  times,  being  herself  a  clever  and  experi- 
enced physician,  even  takes  an  active  part  in  surgical 
operations. 

Queen  Alexandra  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  is 
celebrated  throughout  the  world  for  her  rare  beauty 
and  for  the  love  which  she  has  been  able  to  kindle 
in  the  hearts  of  her  subjects.     Though  a  number  of 
them  have   the  honour   and   pleasure   of  frequently 
approaching  the  presence  of  their  lovely  Queen,  and 
even  to  some  extent  of  sharing  her  existence,  it  was 
my  lot — and  one  of  which  I  feel  especially  proud — 
to  become  an  immediate  object  of  interest  and  sym- 
pathy to  her  from  the  very   moment   of  our   first 
encounter.     This  interest  and  sympathy,  I  am  happy 
to  say,  her  Majesty  has  continued  to  evince,  rightly 
guessing  how  deep  and  fervent  a  worshipper  she  had 
found  in  the  young  Roumanian  girl  who  was  first 
presented  to  her  on  a  rainy  autumn  morning  in  Queen 
Victoria's  sitting-room   at   Balmoral.      I  remember 
how  startled  I  then  was  to  discover  that   the  lovely 
youthful  face,  the  luminous  blue  eyes — blue  as  the 
water  of  fjords  and  mountain  lakes — the  slim  form, 
and  the  indescribable  grace  belonged  to  one  who  was 
the  mother  of  grown-up  children.     Her  very  speech 
was  full  of  that  glee  and  curiosity  so  rarely  the  ap- 
panage of  maturer  years,  since  in  the  autumn  of  life 

71 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  soul  loses  its  eagerness  for  new  impressions  and 
new  experiences. 

How  charmed  the  Princess  declared  herself  to  be 
that  day,  when  she  heard  we  had  come  to  Scotland 
for  the  first  time,  and  with  what  gracious  sympathy 
she  began  to  describe  the  customs  of  the  Highlands. 
From  one  window  to  the  other  she  led  us,  pointing 
out  all  the  details  of  the  landscape  as  it  lay  before  us, 
clad  in  its  glory  of  purple  heather,  veiled  by  thin 
bluish  mists,  weird  with  the  magic  of  unknown, 
mysterious  influences. 

"  I  can  hardly  imagine,"  said  the  fairy  of  the  land, 
*'  that  your  Karpathians,  gorgeous  though  they  be, 
are  ever  clad  with  such  a  rich  mantle  of  violet  and 
dark  red,  or  that  your  trees  can  rustle  so  gently  as 
ours  to  the  tune  of  the  swift,  clear  river.  But  the 
Prince  has  told  me  of  the  dazzling  sunshine  as  it 
rests  on  rocks  and  forests,  and  how  strongly  the 
colour  of  the  Roumanian  sky,  the  blinding  whiteness 
spread  above  its  azure  depths,  reminded  him  of 
India.  The  Prince  always  gives  me  such  a  vivid 
account  of  his  travels  that  ever  since  his  return 
I  have  been  dreaming  of  your  Queen's  visit  to 
England  and  to  us,  and,  somehow,  I  was  sure  you 
would  accompany  her.  I  know  all  about  you  and 
about  the  tableaux  vivants  in  Sinaia.  ...  I  hope 
you  will  like  your  room  here — we  have  paid  special 
attention  to  its  situation.  As  you  are  a  poet  you 
will  delight  in  the  fine  view  it  commands.  You  will 
soon  be  able,  even  without  going    out,  to   become 

72 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

acquainted  with  our  woods  and  glens,  and  perhaps 
some  day  you  will  give  us  a  description  of  them. 
Oh,  if  you  would  write  a  poem  here  I  Doesn't 
inspiration  come  when  you  call  her,  like  one  of 
those  tame  godmothers  we  read  of  in  fairy-tales, 
who  at  the  touch  of  a  magic  wand  appear  upon 
the  threshold  and  scatter  jewels  and  flowers  as 
they  walk  ?  Oh,  please  just  send  a  message  to 
me  when  you  feel  disposed  to  work,  and  I  will 
sit  by  very  quietly  and  watch  you,  as  quiet  as  a 
mouse.  I  should  love  to  sit  by  a  poet  when  she  is 
writing." 

"  Then  I  need  not  wait  for  inspiration,"  I  replied, 
"  and  I  want  no  magic  wand.  Your  Royal  Highness 
would  represent  the  fairy,  and  I  would  gather  the 
flowers  and  precious  gems  that  fall  from  a  Princess's 
eyes  and  tongue." 

Although  this  sounded  very  like  a  banal  Court 
compliment,  the  Princess's  aspect,  the  bright  gaze 
of  her  tender  blue  eyes,  the  easy  harmony  of  her 
every  gesture  as  she  stood  there,  leaning  a  little  out 
of  the  open  window,  made  a  true  comment  on  my 
little  speech.  The  voice  of  the  river  mingled  with 
the  soft  rustling  of  the  trees  below,  and  to  me  it 
seemed  as  if  the  sweet  feminine  vision  had  risen  from 
among  them  to  complete  the  glamour  of  the  hour. 
She  was  gazing  far  ofi^  to  the  distant  hills,  tracing 
their  curves  with  hands  so  soft  and  supple  that  no 
thought  could  come  of  the  day  when  they  must  hold 
the  triple    sceptre — heavier  far    than   the  wand    of 

73 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

beauty  they  waved  that  day  over  the  heaving  forests 
of  the  Highlands, 

"  You  will  wear  your  Roumanian  costumes  to- 
night at  dinner?  "  continued  the  Princess.  "  I  shall 
be  so  glad  to  see  them.  We  once  found  a  doll  at  a 
fancy  fair  dressed  in  Roumanian  costume ;  but  we 
could  not  tell  whether  the  costume  was  really  like 
the  picturesque  garb  worn  by  your  peasants." 

A  few  hours  later,  as  we  were  about  to  prepare 
for  dinner,  we  were  having  a  lively  discussion  with 
our  maid  as  to  which  among  the  numerous  costumes 
we  had  better  wear — the  maid,  of  course,  proposing 
the  most  showy,  the  one  that  sparkled  most  and  was 
decked  the  most  heavily  with  gold  and  spangles-  I 
had  suggested  that  we  should  refer  the  question  to 
ourQueen,  and  had  written  a  note  asking  her  Majesty's 
advice  on  the  subject,  towhichthe  Queen  had  answered: 
"  I  consider  the  white  and  silver  one  is  the  prettiest 
you  possess."  A  soft  knock  at  the  door  interrupted 
our  survey  of  the  different  belts  and  aprons.  I  went 
myself  to  open  it,  expecting  that  the  Queen  had  sent 
a  second  note,  when  I  saw  a  slender  form,  clad  in 
a  plain,  tailor-made  blue  serge  dress.  Seeing  that  I 
failed  to  recognise  her  in  the  rather  dim  light,  the 
lady  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  saying 
quietly:  "  I  am  the  Princess  of  Wales.  You  know  me 
now,  don't  you  .''  I  have  come  to  see  all  your  cos- 
tumes, and  to  find  out  whether  you  are  comfortable 
in  your  rooms,  and  to  watch  how  you  arrange  the 
different  parts   of  this  glistening   attire,"  and    she 

74 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

pointed  to  a  large  divan  on  which  in  splendid  array  lay 
all  the  pride  of  Oriental  embroideries  and  colouring. 

One  after  the  other  the  belts  and  veils  and  skirts 
were  handed  to  the  Princess,  but  when  she  perceived 
that  this  was  no  easy  task — they  were  so  numerous 
— she  said  : 

"  Please  do  not  take  the  trouble  of  showing  them 
to  me,  I  will  look  over  all  these  bright  things  by 
myself — indeed,  I  prefer  doing  so,  but  you  must  give 
me  all  the  explanations  I  want."  And  many  and 
eager  were  the  questions  she  asked. 

"  This  veil — do  you  wear  it  round  your  shoulders 
or  on  your  head  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  wear  it  at  all,  madam ;  in  fact,  I  could 
not  do  so.  The  veil  is  a  symbol,  the  sign  of  the 
dignity  to  which  a  woman  rises  by  marriage,  and  the 
sign  of  slavery,  too.  A  married  woman  must  cover 
her  hair — no  man  may  ever  see  her  hair  except  her 
husband.  They  are  very  strict  about  this  in  our 
villages." 

"  Indeed !  "  answered  the  Princess  ;  "  but  I  do  not 
approve  of  the  restriction — they  must  look  so  fascina- 
ting with  the  veil.  I  suppose  that  it  is  a  precaution 
against  coquettishness  and  vanity.  And  this  belt — 
why,  how  long  it  is  !  " 

"  The  village  girls  wear  it  twisted  twelve  times 
round  their  waists." 

"  Which  is  the  costume  you  intend  to  wear  this 
evening  .? " 

"  This  one,  the  white  and  silver,  madam." 

75 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

"  It  is  very  beautiful  indeed,  but  rather  heavy  and 
gaudy  for  you,"  said  the  Princess,  lifting  the  red 
skirts  and  snowy  bodices  one  after  another  and 
holding  them  up,  with  exclamations  of  amusement. 
Then  she  uttered  a  cry  of  admiration,  "  Oh,  how 
nice  !  Why  do  not  you  wear  this  ?  It  is  so  simple, 
yet  so  tasteful.  I  am  sure  this  coarse  red  skirt 
embroidered  with  thick  yellow  flowers,  with  a  gleam 
of  gold  thread  seen  only  here  and  there,  must  bear 
some  charming  meaning.  There  is  something  in  this 
costume  that  appeals  to  my  imagination." 

"  Your  Royal  Higness  has  guessed  aright.  This 
is  the  costume  sometimes  worn  in  our  country  by  the 
wandering  Tziganes.  The  rough  linen,  the  coarse 
tissue  of  the  skirt  were  once  woven  on  purpose  for 
the  reckless  girls  of  those  strange  tribes  who  may  be 
seen  at  sunset  lighting  their  fires  before  their  ragged 
tents,  which  before  daybreak  will  be  carried  away 
by  their  possessors,  who  know  and  desire  neither 
rest  nor  settled  home.  Once  upon  a  time  the  Tzigane 
beauties  were  accustomed  to  make  themselves  look 
dainty  as  they  traversed  the  broad  roads  leading  from 
one  village  to  another  ;  but  now  they  do  not  care 
for  any  other  dress  than  such  as  are,  like  these,  made 
up  of  scraps  of  coloured  finery.  This  garment, 
which  interests  your  Royal  Highness,  is  very  old 
indeed  ;  in  fact,  it  was  found  buried  in  a  green  wooden 
box  at  the  foot  of  a  forest  tree  some  fifty  years  ago, 
and  no  one  can  tell  how  long  it  had  remained 
underground." 

76 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

"  How  exciting  !  "  exclaimed  the  Princess,  as  with 
breathless  attention  she  followed  my  narrative. 
"  Please  go  on.  Is  no  one  aware  of  the  cause  that 
forced  the  possessor  of  the  Tzigane  dress  to  bury  it 
underground  ^ " 

"  No,  madam  ;  on  that  point  legends  and  popular 
imagination  are  allowed  full  sway.  Some  assert 
that  the  damsel  who  thus  concealed  her  finery  did 
so  from  despair — a  love  affair,  of  course.  Others  are 
convinced  that  she  had  made  a  vow  to  abandon  all 
she  held  most  precious  in  order  to  obtain  a  favour 
from  the  mysterious  deities  of  the  Tzigane  race. 
But,  however  that  may  be,  I  prefer  this  costume  to 
all  the  others.  And  if  your  Royal  Highness  will 
deign  to  look  more  closely,  here  in  the  belt  is  the 
little  pocket  where  the  young  Tzigane  kept  a  shell, 
and  here  the  pocket  for  her  little  flute,  and  there  a 
pocket  again  where  this  small  dagger  lay." 

*'  But  what  did  she  keep  a  shell  for .'' " 

"  Ah  !  That  requires  an  explanation.  Every 
Tzigane  is  a  sibyl.  She  reads  the  future  in  the  stars, 
in  the  summer  foliage,  in  the  sound  of  the  summer 
streams ;  she  listens,  and  voices  heard  by  herself 
alone  speak  to  her.  But  most  of  all  do  those  mys- 
terious voices  sing  to  her  in  the  depths  of  sea-shells. 
Thus  no  real  Bohemian  worthy  of  the  name  can  go 
anywhere  without  a  sea-shell.  To  tell  the  truth, 
madam,  I  secretly  desired  to  wear  this  particular 
costume  at  dinner,  but  on  reflection  I  feared  that 
it  was  hardly  suitable — it  lacks  decorum." 

77 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1   HAVE  KNOWN 

"  But  what  if  I  forbid  you  to  appear  in  any  other?" 
said  the  Princess. 

"  I  willobeyyou  with  the  utmost  pleasure,  madam." 

So  delighted  did  the  Princess  seem  with  all  that 
was  novel  to  her  in  our  conversation  that  she  prolonged 
her  visit,  astonishing  us  by  her  deep  knowledge  of 
English  and  Scottish  popular  lore,  and  giving  such 
advice  about  our  trip  to  Ireland  as  proved  how  well 
she  had  learnt  to  know  the  Green  Island  which  it 
was  our  intention  to  see. 

It  was  growing  late  and  the  Princess  still  stood 
among  the  Oriental  ornaments  spread  around  her, 
while  the  mountain  twilight  was  falling  fast  in  the 
small  sitting-room,  where  her  figure  now  formed 
the  one  luminous  point. 

*'  You  must  come  to  Abergeldie,  our  Highland 
home,  to-morrow,"  said  she  ;  "  but  first  I  will  tell 
you  all  about  Abergeldie  and  the  quiet,  refreshing 
life  we  lead  there.  Refreshing  is  the  real  word  to 
express  our  autumn  stay  amongst  these  dear  purple 
hills,  where  we  seem  to  forget  completely  that  we 
are  Royalties,  and  only  remember  the  fact  when  we 
discover  the  pleasure  our  presence  bestows  upon  the 
people  here." 

But  these  records  of  Abergeldie  I  was  destined  not 
to  hear,  for  at  that  moment  a  slight  knock  was  heard 
at  the  door.  I  rushed  to  prevent  the  invasion  of  an 
intruder,  and  as  I  pulled  the  door  open  found  myself 
confronted  by  a  footman. 

"  Hush  !  "  said  I,  without  allowing  him  to  speak, 

78 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

"  The  Princess  of  Wales  is  here  ;  I  must  attend  to 
her  Royal  Highness.  Any  message  you  have  to 
deliver  must  wait." 

But  the  undaunted  footman  simply  said :  "  The 
Queen  desires  you  to  go  to  her  immediately." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  Then  kindly  tell  her  Majesty  that 
I  cannot  obey  her  for  the  moment,  as  the  Princess 
of  Wales  is  giving  me  the  honour  of  her  presence  in 
my  room." 

The  footman  stood  perplexed,  then  made  a  move- 
ment to  retire,  but  the  Princess  now  stepped  to  my 
side. 

"  You  are  making  a  terrible  mistake,"  she  said. 
"  You  believe  he  means  your  Queen,  the  Queen  of 
Roumania,  and  I  know  she  would  be  willing  to  dis- 
pense with  your  company  in  my  favour.  But  this 
man  means  Queen  Victoria.  There  is  but  one  Queen 
— to  us,  at  least,  there  is  but  one  Queen  here,  the 
Queen  of  England,  and  she  can  brook  neither  delay 
nor  excuse,  so  run  quickly."  Then,  noticing  that 
the  footman  had  vanished,  she  added,  "  Oh,  do  not 
give  him  time  to  forestall  you.  Can  you  change 
your  stately  Court  step  into  a  good  run  }  Here, 
give  me  your  hand,  I  will  show  you  the  way," 
and  with  a  swift,  graceful  motion  the  Princess 
moved  beside  me,  holding  my  fingers  between  her 
own  till  we  reached  the  doors  of  Queen  Victoria's 
apartments. 

When  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  the  aged 
Queen  I  could  speak  of  nothing  but  the  Princess  of 

79 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Wales,   and  her  Majesty   stood  nodding  in   pleased 
appreciation  of  my  enthusiasm. 

"  And  you  have  seen  only  one  side  of  her  various 
gifts  :  you  should  follow  her  life  step  by  step.  For 
many  years  the  Princess  has  tried  hard  to  spare  me 
the  strain  and  fatigue  of  great  functions.  She  opens 
bazaars,  attends  concerts,  visits  hospitals  in  my  place, 
and  she  always  gives  me  such  full  and  vivid  accounts 
of  people  and  places  that  I  almost  seem  to  have  been 
present.  I  sometimes  laughingly  tell  her  that  she  is 
a  dictionary  in  which  is  inscribed  every  variety  of 
adjective  connected  with  the  words  '  good  '  and  'true.' 
However  terrible  the  load  which  I  lay  upon  her 
slender  shoulders,  she  not  only  never  complains,  but 
endeavours  to  prove  that  she  has  enjoyed  what  to 
another  would  be  a  nuisance  or  a  tiresome  duty.  She 
even  declares  that  a  Drawing  Room  is  a  most  enter- 
taining sight,  and  that  it  does  not  make  her  feel  dizzy 
or  distressed  when  she  glances  from  one  face  to 
another,  without  ever  overlooking  one  of  them.  For 
my  part  I  must  own  how  interested  I  felt  in  my  early 
youth  in  young  faces  and  fresh  debutantes ;  later  on 
matrons  and  maturer  ladies  were  the  great  point  of 
attraction  to  me ;  and  now  I  do  so  pity  old  ladies 
who  have  to  wear  the  three  feathers  and  go  through 
the  tiresome  ceremony  which,  notwithstanding  its 
irksome  length  and  etiquette,  I  love  to  witness,  as  it 
is  one  of  the  characteristic  English  traditions,  and 
must  always  remain  dear  to  the  hearts  of  British 
Sovereigns.   .   .  .  Princess  Alexandra  holds  a  Drawing 

80 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

Room  beautifully,  and  I  am  gratified  to  feel  secure 
that,  when  I  am  no  more,  a  Queen  of  England  worthy 
of  England's  throne  will  grace  it." 

That  very  evening,  in  honour  of  our  Queen,  a 
Highland  reel  was  danced  in  front  of  Balmoral 
Castle.  The  spectacle  was  new  to  us  and  somewhat 
bewildering.  The  glare  of  the  torches,  whose  flames 
were  shaken  by  the  strong  north  wind,  the  loud,  gut- 
tural sounds  that  escaped  from  that  group  of  wild 
men,  clad  in  the  picturesque  costume  so  often  de- 
scribed by  Walter  Scott,  sent  a  thrill  through  our 
imagination  as  we  stood  there  on  the  stone  threshold 
with  the  illumined  hall  behind  us.  Tartans  flew 
high,  and  from  head  to  foot  the  wild  dancers  appeared 
to  be  seized  with  a  frenzy  of  cadence  and  clamour. 
Our  Queen  had  insisted  on  getting  as  near  the  dance 
as  possible,  and  presently,  to  complete  the  weird 
poetry  of  the  scene,  the  gentle  wail  of  distant  bag- 
pipes floated  from  the  neighbouring  hills,  as  if  a 
chorus  of  mysterious  and  invisible  beings  were  send- 
ing forth  the  welcome  of  the  dim  Highland  glades 
to  the  strangers  entranced  by  their  pathetic  charm. 

A  lady,  enveloped  in  a  plain  grey  woollen  mantle, 
was  standing  by  the  side  of  our  Queen.  In  the  dark- 
ness, when  the  red  streaks  of  the  waving  torches 
traced  long  furrows  of  flames,  I  could  scarcely  discern 
her  form,  and  her  face  was  hidden  by  a  grey  cap 
which  descended  low  on  her  forehead.  The  cold  was 
bitter,  but  we  scarcely  felt  how  sharply  the  night 
breeze  blew,  penetrating  the  thin  tissue  of  our  evening 

8i 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

dresses.  We  should  indeed  have  felt  our  light 
summer  cloaks  unable  to  protect  us  from  the  biting 
atmosphere  had  we  bestowed  a  thought  upon  our- 
selves, instead  of  remaining  entranced,  with  eyes  and 
ears  intent  on  losing  not  a  movement  or  a  sound. 
Presently  that  silent  lady  in  grey,  whose  form  seemed 
to  mingle  with  the  rising  mist,  glided  softly  away, 
and  I  had  forgotten  her  when  the  slender  figure  again 
appeared  by  the  side  of  our  Queen,  and,  raising  her 
arm  to  the  shoulders  of  the  Royal  guest,  wrapped 
round  her  a  fleecy  white  shawl,  which  I  guessed  to  be 
welcome,  and  which  I  heartily  envied.  But  I  had 
barely  time  to  do  so  before  the  graceful  apparition  had 
performed  for  me  the  same  silent  kindness.  I  lifted 
up  my  eyes  and  recognised  the  Princess  of  Wales. 
She  had  no  leisure  to  listen  to  my  grateful  thanks,  as 
her  arms  were  laden  with  shawls,  which  one  by  one 
she  deposited  in  the  hands  of  the  ladies  present.  Then 
quietly  the  gentle  benefactress  resumed  her  place, 
which  she  left  only  now  and  again  in  order  to  explain 
to  us  the  different  meanings  of  the  words  and  dances- 
.  .  .  The  tartan  flew,  the  bagpipes  moaned  and 
twittered,  the  torches  spread  their  flames  abroad  in 
the  dark  night  air,  and  the  humid  scent  of  the  heather 
mingled  with  the  smell  of  the  river  and  the  trees. 
That  moment  will  remain  alive  in  my  memory  for 
ever. 

When  we  returned  to  the  hall,  where  the  Royalties 
had  preceded  us,  the  Princess  of  Wales  was  seated  on 
a  bench  against   the  white  stone  wall.     Her  woollen 

82 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

cap  lay  on  her  knees,  and  she  had  clasped  her  hands 
around  it  in  a  reverie  which  no  one  dared  disturb. 
Then  she  rose  and  said  :  "  Did  you  not  love  to  hear 
those  distant  bagpipes  ? — did  it  not  seem  to  you  as  if 
the  spirit  of  the  mountains  breathed  upon  us  from 
afar  ?  That  was  my  idea.  Oh,  try  not  to  forget  our 
Highland  songs  and  dances  !  "  And  fervently  in  my 
heart  I  declared  that  I  could  never  forget  them,  and 
that  one  of  the  impressions  of  that  wild  scene  which 
I  should  most  vividly  remember  would  be  the  form 
of  the  shadowy  lady  in  grey  who  stood  so  long  by  the 
side  of  our  Queen. 

I  believe  that  amongst  the  many  qualities  ascribed 
to  Queen  Alexandra  the  one  which  she  possesses  in 
the  most  conspicuous  degree  is  the  quality  which  we 
are  accustomed  to  admire  in  the  heroines  of  history, 
whose  valour,  purity,  intelligence,  or  grace  have 
attracted  the  worship  of  multitudes — a  knowledge 
which  no  learning  can  bestow — the  secret,  the  magical 
power  of  being  in  sympathy  with  the  souls  with 
whom  destiny  connects  them. 

My  destiny  it  was  to  meet  the  Princess  again  and 
again,  in  widely  differing  circumstances.  In  Rome 
one  day  in  the  gay  bustle  of  a  Sunday  crowd,  when 
the  scent  of  crushed  flowers  and  the  odour  of  sur- 
rounding gardens  rose  in  the  sunlight  and  blue  air, 
I  met  a  figure  so  sweetly  wrapped  in  sadness,  so 
immersed  in  grief,  that  the  cry  of  "  Mater  dolorosa  " 
rose  to  my  lips.  No  stronger  image  of  maternal 
desolation,  none  more  thrilling,  could  have  struck 

83  F 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

upon  my  sight  than  did  the  set  expression  of  pain 
which  paled  the  lovely  vision  of  the  northern  fairy 
whom  I  had  once  seen  so  smiling,  so  light-hearted. 
Not  with  the  hour  of  gaiety  under  the  bright  splen- 
dour of  the  Roman  sky  was  Princess  Alexandra  in 
harmony  that  day,  but  with  the  hour  which  is  filled 
with  the  dying  perfume  of  crushed  flowers — the  hour 
which  had  bruised  her  soul  and  robbed  her  of  her 
eldest  born. 

Later,  again,  we  met  at  Marlborough  House. 
The  smiling  Princess,  the  sorrow-stricken  mother, 
had  become  a  Queen,  and  a  new  majesty  adorned  her. 

"  Do  you  remember  Balmoral .''  "  she  said.  "  Do 
you  remember  Rome  ?  And  now  I  am  in  black 
again — and  black  would  be  for  ever  in  keeping  with 
my  thoughts  if  the  people  of  this  land  were  not  so 
close  to  my  heart.  Then  I  have  the  comfort  of  my 
faith  ;  I  have  my  husband  and  my  children.  But, 
oh,  at  first  I  thought  that  I  should  never  overcome 
my  grief !  Then  I  lost  my  own  mother.  We  were 
not  only  mother  and  daughter,  but  such  close  friends. 

Then  Queen  Victoria "     And  in  low,  subdued 

tones  she  told  me  of  the  days  of  gloom,  of  the  day 
that  preceded  Queen  Victoria's  death,  and  the  last 
hours  of  that  glorious  life. 

"  And  I  have  to  leave  this  dear  old  place,  though 
I  cling  to  it  as  I  clung  to  my  title  of  Princess  of 
Wales,  which  I  bore  through  so  many  happy  days. 
As  Princess  of  Wales  I  was  a  young  wife  and  a  young 
mother  and  a  young  figure  to  the  people,  and  1  shall 

84 


QUEEN  ALEXANDRA 

remain  to  them  and  to  myself  the  Princess  of  Wales 
long  after  being  a  crowned  Queen.  There  is  so  much 
to  achieve  and  to  cherish,"  she  continued,  "  in  the 
paths  of  duty  and  love.  And  who  can  deny  the 
blessings  of  prayer  ^  .  .  .  Now  tell  me  all  about 
your  work — I  love  poetry.  Speak,  and  I  will 
listen." 

And  the  moments  glided  by  while  I  spoke  and 
the  Queen  listened  ;  then  again  light  came  into  the 
beautiful,  unchanged  face  as  she  unravelled  the 
skeins  of  memory,  till  through  the  melancholy  of 
her  tones  faith  and  hope  shone  like  stars  amid  dark 
foliage. 

I  had  completely  forgotten  how  long  I  had  been 
there  when  an  equerry  or  usher  stepped  forward, 
and  in  a  respectful  whisper  reminded  her  Majesty 
of  the  hour.  "  Ah  !  yes,"  and  the  Queen  rose  to 
her  feet,  "  I  have  quite  forgotten  the  time.  It  is," 
and  she  turned  to  me,  "  a  deputation  from  the  town 
of  Chester,  which  gave  me  a  casket  containing  an 
address  of  loyalty  on  the  day  of  our  marriage — and 
now  they  come  to  congratulate  us  on  our  accession. 
But  where  are  your  books  which  I  asked  you  to 
bring .?  " 

I  pointed  to  a  low  stool,  and  with  a  swift  and 
graceful  movement  the  Queen  knelt  before  the  humble 
volumes. 

*'  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you  !  I  shall  love  them ; 
you  may  be  sure  1  shall." 

And  thus  I  left  her.     She  rose  to  say  good-bye 

85  I 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

again,  the  trembling  green  shadows  poured  upon  her 
form  by  the  great  trees  encircling  her  head  like  an 
aureola  of  emerald,  a  wreath  of  hope. 

And,  though  since  then  I  have  seen  England's 
Alexandra  again — seen  her  in  the  glory  and  emotion 
of  that  Coronation  hour  at  Westminster  Abbey  whose 
surpassing  greatness  held  enshrined  all  the  hours 
of  her  illustrious  existence — that  image  of  the  new 
Queen  in  her  old  Marlborough  home  remains  with 
me  one  of  unrivalled  beauty  and  sweetness,  an  image 
harmonious,  fair,  and  dazzling,  like  the  name  and 
title  of  the  exalted  lady  whose  rank  is  eclipsed  by 
virtues  as  countless  as  the  gems  of  her  crown. 


86 


riioto  hy  C.  l'iet'-.ncr,  lieiinit 
FRANCIS  JOSEPH,  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 


THE   EMPEROR    OF   AUSTRIA 

It  has  been  the  destiny  of  few  human  beings  to  drain 
to  the  dregs  so  many  varied  cups  of  misfortune  as 
the  present  Emperor  of  Austria.  Few  men  have 
known  as  he  has  all  the  troubles  that  fate  may  pour 
on  the  head  of  a  chosen  victim.  Whenever  thought 
of  the  venerable  sovereign  arises  within  us,  wherever 
his  name  is  mentioned,  it  is  not  the  image  of  his 
greatness,  not  the  light  of  his  benevolent  smile  nor 
the  clear  depths  of  his  gentle  blue  eyes  that  appears 
before  the  interior  gaze  of  our  imagination.  Instead 
of  seeing  him  enthroned  in  a  palace,  surrounded  bv 
a  throng  of  adoring  nations  gathered  to  greet  their 
beloved  lord  and  master,  we  find  him  encircled  by  a 
crowd  of  shadows,  a  funereal  throng,  each  figure 
bearing  a  black  urn  filled  with  ashes  and  tears.  Dark 
mourning  garlands  of  dead  flowers  hang  heavy  on 
their  brows  as  they  advance  with  slow  and  faltering 
steps,  and  like  Dante  on  the  threshold  of  Hell 
questioning  the  mighty  Poet  whose  white  garb  was 
the  only  ray  in  the  thick  darkness,  we  murmur  to 
ourselves : 

"Whence    come    these    women    so    sad    and    so 

89 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS   I   HAVE  KNOWN 

distressed  ?  Whence  the  wounds  and  the  blood  we 
behold  ?  Why  does  that  man  whose  looks  betoken 
goodness  bear  a  gap  in  his  side  ?  And  the  Royal 
Lady  who  walks  not  far  from  him,  why  has  she 
stains  of  blood  on  her  bosom  and  about  her  dress, 
though  her  demeanour  is  free  and  proud  and  her 
beauty  more  wonderful  than  the  first  dawn  of  day 
upon  the  sea  ?  Who  is  the  young  man  in  the  glow 
of  youth  whose  features  are  gory  and  red  as  the  sun 
at  its  setting,  and  why  do  we  see  knives  in  the  air 
around  him  with  all  their  points  at  his  heart  ?  Who 
are  they  ?  And  who  is  that  form  standing  out  from 
the  others  in  the  mournful  pageant,  whose  every 
gesture  betokens  a  madness  as  sacred  and  mysterious 
as  that  of  Hamlet  ?  " 

When  our  gaze  has  rested  fully  on  the  be- 
wildering scene,  like  Dante  again  we  question  the 
Past. 

"  What  was  their  story  ?  It  must  have  been  sin- 
gularly tragic  and  thrilling  ?  Lay  your  hand  on  that 
lady's  shoulder ;  touch  her  long  hair  that  she  may 
turn  her  head  and  show  us  those  eyes  in  which  one 
may  read  all  the  horror  of  despair,  all  the  beauty  of 
heaven  and  earth.  Stay  for  an  instant  that  other 
one,  that  illustrious  sister  of  Hamlet,  while  she 
speaks  to  us  of  the  distant  land  where  her  beloved 
spouse  perished  at  the  hands  of  those  who  should 
have  sheltered  and  protected  him.  And  if,  O 
luminous  guide,  thou  canst  give  tongue  and  speech 

to  the  most  mute  of  all  the  taciturn  throng,  let  that 

90 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

young  man  reveal  the  terror  of  the  hour  when  he 
stood  face  to  face  with  death  !  '* 

They  belong  to  us,  each  one  of  these  phantoms. 
They  belong  to  the  poets,  and  we  alone  have  the 
right  to  read  their  hearts.  They  are  ours,  and  the 
greatest  creations  of  our  dreams  would  fall  to  dust 
did  they  appear  in  our  songs.  From  the  days  of 
her  early  youth  we  have  recognised  as  our  own  the 
radiant  Empress  who  came  from  the  dim  Bavarian 
forests  bearing  in  her  disdainful  heart  a  thirst  for 
pain  and  for  happiness.  She  turned  her  eyes  from 
all  joys  but  those  which  nature  affords,  the  rising  of 
dawn  upon  the  silence-wrapped  sea,  the  noble  calm 
of  high  peaks  when  the  last  rays  of  the  sun  strike 
them  with  purple  daggers.  And  he,  the  ardent  son 
of  the  wild  Empress,  he  belonged  to  us,  he  belonged 
to  the  poet  who  loves  brilliant  accesses  of  force  and 
desire,  passionate  thrillings  of  souls  ever  ready  to 
court  peril.  From  his  mother  he  inherited  a  craving 
for  liberty  which  conventional  restraints  turned  to 
rebellion  and  desolation.  From  her  came  his  strong 
spirit  ever  ready  to  conquer  or  perish.  Even  before 
his  birth  it  seems  as  if  he  were  dedicated'  to  some 
frightful  destiny  whose  vengeful  power  would  drive 
him  to  his  fate.  She  herself  once  compared  him 
to  the  son  of  Thetis  and  she  wept  over  him  in  the 
same  way  as  the  Queen  of  the  Sea  wept  over  her 
hero  son.  In  remembrance  of  her  grief  she  had  a 
statue  of  Achilles  erected  on  the  banks  of  the  Greek 
Sea,  where  among  myrtle  boughs  and  roses  Thetis 

91 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

lives  again  in  the  waves  and  mourns  for  ever  the  lost 
warrior  and  king. 

Ah,  what  a  throng  of  shadows,  what  a  murmur 
of  sobs  and  distraught  words  follows  the  gentle 
Emperor !  Yet  his  step  is  firm  and  his  smile  as 
unvarying  as  if  he  heard  and  saw  them  not,  while 
the  benevolent  light  in  his  blue  eyes  gains  every 
heart.  Those  who  approach  him  say  with  truth  that 
he  is  a  very  miracle  of  fortitude. 

When,  a  few  centuries  ago,  the  German  Emperor 
Maximilian  fled  like  a  hunted  animal  from  province 
to  province  of  his  vast  realm,  ever  pursuing  a  wild 
chase  with  hounds  and  horn,  he  was  in  reality  en- 
deavouring to  escape  from  his  own  terror-haunted 
soul.  He  suffered  from  what  we  should  now  call  a 
nervous  complaint  only  to  be  relieved  by  violent 
exercise.  When  Juana  la  Loca — mad  Queen  Joan 
— wandered  all  over  Spain  in  her  huge  black  coach 
of  ebony  and  velvet  drawn  by  stalwart  black  horses, 
she  said  she  was  fleeing  from  the  grasp  of  death  that 
she  feared  would  snatch  her  handsome  young  hus- 
band from  her  arms.  He  had  long  been  dead  but 
her  fond  madness  found  relief  in  the  hallucination. 
Her  son,  Charles  V.,  feeling  across  his  life  the  dark 
shadow  of  his  mother's  madness,  retired  to  a  con- 
vent. He  thought  to  escape  the  dread  inheritance 
by  seeking  that  comfort  and  repose  that  prayer  and 
solitude  alone  afford. 

Thus  many  sovereigns  of  this  fated  race  have  fled 
before  visions  and  fears  that  made  the  blood  curdle 

92 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

in  their  veins.     Franz-Josef,  Emperor  of   Austria, 
has   never  entertained  the  idea  of  flight.     He  has 
not  felt  the  strange  desire  to  carry  with  him  into 
the  depths  of  a  desert  or  into  the  silence  of  a  tomb 
the  shadows  whose  wailing  voices  he  must  have  ever 
in  his  ears.     He  bravely  and  resolutely  bids  them 
follow  and  even  help  him  as  he  struggles  along  in 
the  path  of  duty.     They  sit  at  his  table  and  dwell 
under   his  roof,  never  leaving  him  for  a  moment, 
yet  cheerfulness  and  conviviality  reign  at  his  meals 
and  labour  and  unwavering  attention  to  the  cares  of* 
State    fill    his    hours.      Like    an    untamed    captive, 
chained  yet  unconquered,  the  Emperor  takes  a  pride 
in  bearing  his  misery  lightly.     He  allows  no  one  to 
guess  how  much  he  suffers  when,  amid  the  dazzling 
splendour  of  Royal   functions,  he  sees   the  empty 
places   once   graced  by  the  presence  of  his  beloved 
ones.     What  effort  must  be  required,  what  terrible 
strength  of  will,  to  bring  a  smile  to  those  lips  which 
have  been  so  often  pressed  to  the  cold  cheek  of  the 
dead,  and  to  those  eyes  in  which  the  image  of  death 
has  so  many  times  been   mirrored  !     Once  he  was 
indeed    a    happy   man.      Though    the   mysterious 
Empress    sometimes    deserted  his   home — for  even 
before  her  great  misfortune  she  showed  a  taste  for 
roaming — she  would  return  to  Vienna  from  time  to 
time  and  even  make  her  appearance  at  State  balls 
once  or  twice   in  the    year.     Upon  such  occasions 
the  proud  husband  never  left  her  side  and  seemed 
happy  in  watching  the  effect  created  on  all  beholders 

93 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

by  her  beauty.  The  Empress  used  to  wear  her  long 
hair  loose  on  her  shoulders  and  the  young  Heir 
Apparent,  a  boy  in  his  teens,  notwithstanding  the 
strictness  of  Austrian  court  etiquette  and  the 
solemnity  of  the  occasion,  would  tease  his  mother 
by  stepping  on  the  rich  waves  of  flowing  gold,  at 
which  the  Emperor  scolded  a  little  and  laughed 
much,  while  the  proud  Imperial  lady  gazed  dreamily 
on  the  dancers  or  went  from  one  noble  guest  to 
another,  letting  the  words  fall  drowsily  from 
her  lips.  For  her  own  particular  use  she  invented 
a  manner  of  speaking  afterwards  imitated  by  the 
Austrian  Archdukes  and  Princesses,  which  reduced 
the  tones  of  the  voice  to  a  sort  of  muffled  cooing 
sound.  The  Empress  aff^ected  this  peculiarity  be- 
cause, detesting  the  pomp  and  ceremonial  of  pageants 
and  State  functions,  she  declared  that  it  was  not 
worth  while  to  take  the  trouble  to  speak  when  she 
was  only  permitted  to  say  meaningless  nothings. 
In  private  she  became  less  reserved,  but  the  habit  of 
speaking  in  a  low  tone  is  a  family  tradition  with  the 
Bavarian  Princesses.  The  sister  of  the  deceased 
Empress,  Queen  Sophia  of  Naples,  whom  I  saw 
lately  in  Paris,  never  raises  her  voice  above  a  whisper, 
which  peculiarity  renders  her  resemblance  to  the 
Empress  still  more  striking. 

Three  or  four  years  before  I  met  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  at  Vienna,  I  had  the  opportunity  of  spending 
an  hour  in  the  company  of  his  only  son,  Archduke 
Rudolf,  a  circumstance  which  I  remember  the  more 

94 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

vividly  because  it  clings  to  me  with  the  strong  hold 
which  events  of  our  childhood  take  upon  us.  I  was 
then  a  little  girl,  occupied  by  turns  with  books  and 
butterflies.  Sometimes  on  a  Sunday  to  reward  us 
for  steadfast  obedience  during  the  week  our  Queen 
would  invite  us — my  sister,  a  few  companions  of  our 
own  age  and  myself — to  the  royal  palace  at  Bucha- 
rest, where  we  were  allowed  to  chat  and  play  under 
her  Majesty's  indulgent  eyes.  But  on  the  particular 
afternoon  of  which  I  am  speaking  I  was  alone,  I 
had  been  taken  to  the  palace  by  my  governess  for 
the  special  purpose  of  reciting  some  childish  verses  I 
had  composed.  Although  the  heir  to  the  Austrian 
throne  was  then  on  a  visit  to  our  court,  yet  the 
Queen  found  some  minutes  to  spare  for  me.  She 
had  been  warmly  interested  by  hearing  that  on 
moonlight  evenings  I  used  to  stroll  about  the 
grounds  of  our  country  house  and  climbing  on  a 
swing  sing  long  ballads  to  the  moon,  while  the  swift 
movement  bore  me  high  into  the  air  or  brought  me 
down  again  to  the  level  of  the  silver  bespangled 
sward.  In  vain  my  parents  remonstrated  with  me 
concerning  this  dangerous  exercise.  I  cried  and 
begged  to  be  allowed  one  hour  for  solitary  dreaming 
after  the  twilight  had  set  in,  and  to  this  day  when 
the  sense  of  soft  cadence  flutters  through  my  soul, 
I  feel  around  me  again  the  balmy  radiance  of  the 
evening  hour  and  hear  the  creaking  moan  of  the 
swing  as  it  nestled  for  one  swift  second  in  the  top- 
most branches  of  the  tree  or  came  down  to  rest  in  the 

95 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

grass  where  the  moon's  rays  lay  like  the  wings  of  a 
dove.  The  Queen  was  most  curious  and  impatient 
to  judge  of  my  early  inspirations,  and  I  had  scarcely 
entered  her  gorgeous  apartments  than  she  took  my 
hand  in  hers,  saying  : 

*'  Now  be  a  brave  girl.  You  are  not  afraid  of  me, 
are  you  ?  I  want  to  hear  your  last  poem,  the  one 
about  the  nightingale  who  quarrels  with  the  moon 
because  she  is  mute  and  the  nightingale  sings  with  all 
his  might  to  force  the  moon  to  sing  also." 

"  Yes,  madame,  they  quarrel  all  through  the 
night,  but  at  morning  the  sun  settles  matters  by 
chasing  away  the  nightingale  and  making  the  moon 
so  pale  that  she  hides  herself  in  the  sky." 

"  What  a  shame  both  for  the  nightingale  and  the 
moon  !  "  said  the  Queen.  "  Don't  you  pity  them  ? 
But  I  cannot  stop  long,  so  please  begin,"  And 
swinging  myself  to  and  fro  in  the  big  chair  I  de- 
livered the  innocent  speech,  the  colloquy  that  on 
my  childish  lips  took  such  deep  import.  The  Queen 
seemed  delighted.  It  was  a  clear  day  at  the  be- 
ginning of  spring.  The  palm  trees  in  the  neigh- 
bouring conservatory  seemed  to  gasp  for  a  breath  of 
the  fresh  air  that  brought  perfume  and  coolness  from 
the  garden.  "  Stay  here  a  moment,"  she  said.  "I 
am  going  to  find  something  that  will  give  you  plea- 
sure. Stay  here  while  I  go  and  fetch  it  for  you  from 
my  dressing-room."  I  was  well  acquainted  with 
her  Majesty's  apartments  and  felt  pleased  whenever 

the    opportunity    was    afforded     me    of    wandering 

96 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

amongst   the  costly  furniture  and    precious  objects 
they  contained. 

"  Please  don't  touch  my  desk  nor  approach  my 
writing  table,  but  you  may  run  about  till  I  return, 
and  then — then  I  will  show  you  my  parrots.  One 
of  them  is  such  a  queer,  weird  bird.  He  mopes  and 
frets  from  morning  till  night.  He  is  a  beautiful 
creature,  so  gaudy  and  yet  so  prim,  with  plumage 
like  stained  glass.  He  seems  to  hate  every  one.  I 
call  him  the  unlucky  parrot.  You  shall  see  him  and 
all  my  other  birds." 

The  Queen  was  gone  and  with  thoughts  intent 
upon  the  cheering  promise  I  crossed  the  long  music 
gallery  that  looked  dark  and  severe  because  the 
folding  doors  opened  into  the  green  conservatory 
where  the  huge  palms  longed  in  vain  for  liberty  to 
sigh  and  wave  like  the  happy  trees  in  the  garden. 
Suddenly  the  sound  of  breathing  caught  my  ear.  It 
was  regular  and  loud  as  if  the  bosom  from  which  it 
issued  were  oppressed  or  very  full  of  air.  I  entered 
the  conservatory  and  my  light  step  did  not  disturb 
the  unknown,  who  was  reclining  in  front  of  me  in 
one  of  the  easy  chairs  under  the  quiet  palms.  His 
arms  hung  lazily  and  his  hands  seemed  almost  to 
touch  the  stone  pavement.  His  image  rises  before 
me  as  I  saw  him  then,  his  face  set  in  an  expression  of 
firm  resolve  and  nervous  restraint.  His  was  one  of 
those  faces  to  which  even  a  smile  brings  no  relief. 
His  head  was  upturned  so  that  I  could  only  perceive 
the  close  reddish  beard  round  his  cheeks  and  chin. 

97 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

How  thrilling  and  terrible  appears  to  us,  looking 
back  into  the  past,  the  moment  when  unwittingly  we 
broke  upon  the  solitary  reverie  of  a  being  whose 
story  has  since  been  steeped  in  blood,  to  reflect  that 
perhaps  we  disturbed  their  silent  converse  with  self 
just  at  the  time,  the  exact  second  when  some  glimpse 
of  the  future  might  have  risen  before  them,  when 
some  voice  from  the  depths  of  the  abyss  cried 
"  Beware  !  " 

These  reflections  which  lead  me  now  to  consider 
that  day  with  awe  and  solemnity  did  not  trouble  the 
happy  young  girl  who  listened  under  the  palm  trees 
that  clear  afternoon  in  an  atmosphere  of  peaceful 
luxury  and  magnificence.  I  was  then  myself  on  the 
threshold  of  life  and  could  not  understand  all  the 
pathos  which  in  after  years  was  attached  to  the 
memory  of  the  Archduke.  To-day  the  graceful 
presence  perceived  that  day  in  the  royal  palaoe  at 
Bucharest  is  illumined  in  my  mind  by  the  flickering 
light  of  the  candle  placed  on  the  fatal  supper  table 
at  Mejerling,  in  that  small  hunting  box — since 
become  a  cloister  where  pious  nuns  pray  day  and 
night. 

When  I  remember  the  slender  nervous  fingers  that 
played  with  the  arm  of  the  garden  chair,  I  cannot 
repress  a  shudder  at  the  thought  that,  destined  to 
hold  a  sceptre,  they  should  have  been  so  early  lost 
in  the  folds  of  a  shroud. 

At  first  I  was  taken  aback  and  wondered  what 
would  be  the  consequences  of  my  intrusion,  and  who 

98 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

the  young  man  was  who  made  himself  so  much  at 
home  with  the  chairs  of  the  Queen's  conservatory. 
At  last  I  made  up  my  mind  what  to  do  and  coughed 
lightly.  The  sound  made  him  start  a  little,  and 
then  I  said  abruptly,  "  I  want  to  see  the  parrots, 
that's  why  I  came  in."  The  stranger  looked  so 
supercilious  and  so  thoroughly  at  his  ease  that  I 
wanted  to  make  him  understand  that  my  entrance 
had  nothing  to  do  with  him.  To  my  astonishment 
he  paid  me  such  scanty  attention  that  I  mentally 
dubbed  him  a  monster,  and  took  a  dislike  to  him  on 
the  spot,  for  I  was  accustomed  to  have  great  atten- 
tion paid  to  my  dishevelled  hair,  rosy  cheeks,  and 
boisterous  speech. 

'*  Oh,  the  parrots.  They  are  not  far  from  here, 
judging  by  their  screams."  These  words,  uttered  in  a 
soft  yet  distinct  voice,  fell  lazily  from  the  full  lips. 
The  man  who  spoke  allowed  each  syllable  to  escape 
languidly  as  if  he  disdained  his  own  thoughts  and 
words.  Then,  closing  his  eyes,  he  gave  a  half  yawn 
and  sank  back  to  repose  and  reverie.  My  indignation 
knew  no  bounds.  Who  was  this  fellow  ?  How  dared 
he  lounge  in  a  place  where  the  Queen  might  at  any 
moment  make  her  appearance  ?  How  dared  he  dis- 
parage her  parrots  .?  But  soon  I  should  be  revenged, 
the  Queen  would  come  directly,  and  then  my  fine 
gentleman  would  have  to  rise  and  ofFer  apologies, 
while  I  should  be  present  at  the  scene.  He  should 
see  how  the  Queen  treated  me  and  the  parrots,  he 
should  learn  to  respect  me. 

99 


;v 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS   I   HAVE  KNOWN 

iVIcanwhile,  a  terrible  obstacle  lay  before  me.  He 
had  pointed  to  the  place  whence  the  screams  of  the 
birds  proceeded,  but  he  kept  his  legs  stretched  across 
the  floor  like  two  rods  of  iron.  They  looked  hard 
and  unyielding,  and  in  order  to  cross  the  small  space 
between  himself  and  the  table  I  should  either  have 
to  ask  him  to  draw  his  legs  back  or  else  to  jump 
over  them.  I  was  on  the  point  of  accomplishing  this 
ungraceful  act  when  the  Queen  came  to  my  rescue. 
Now,  I  thought,  he  will  leap  to  his  feet,  implore  for- 
giveness, humble  himself  by  proffering  excuses 

Alas  !  certainly  he  made  a  movement  which  evinced 
some  vague  intention  of  leaving  his  chair,  but  he 
showed  such  poor  alacrity  that  the  Queen  had  time 
to  interpose,  saying,  with  outstretched  arms:  "Please, 
please,  dear  Rudolf,  do  not  disturb  yourself.  I  am 
so  pleased  to  see  you  enjoying  half  an  hour's  rest. 
You  love  my  dear  palm  trees,  don't  you  ^  We  will 
have  tea  presently.  First,  I  must  take  this  little  girl 
to  see  the  parrots.  Do  you  know  that  she  is  a  poet, 
this  child  ?  "  This  time  the  languid  eyes  quivered 
with  an  expression  almost  of  disgust,  and  the  Arch- 
duke turned  his  head  away.  But  the  Queen  con- 
tinued, "  She  is  such  a  chatterbox,  a  fit  rival  for  the 
birds  there,  and  so  gay." 

*'  That's  right,"  he  said,  in  the  curious  voice  that 
seemed  to  soothe  and  prick  by  turns.  "That's 
right.  I  love  gay  women.  Oh  dear,  how  tedious 
some  women  can  be  !  You  cannot  imagine.  Women 
bore   me  to  death  when   they  are   not   laughing  or 

lOO 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

singing.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  are  they  good  for 
anything  else  ? " 

"  For  a  great  many  other  things,"  answered  the 
Queen.  "  But  let  us  away,  dear  child,  because  I 
must  soon  return  for  tea." 

At  the  further  end  of  the  conservatory  a  small 
fountain,  hidden  among  a  forest  of  trees,  gave  forth 
a  low  gurgling  sound.  The  gorgeous  birds  in  their 
golden  cages  flapped  their  wings  and  shrieked  with 
joy  on  perceiving  the  Queen.  They  were  indeed 
beautiful,  these  prisoners,  and  their  splendours  made 
my  young  eyes  sparkle  with  delight.  One  of  them 
bore  on  his  back  shades  of  tender  grey  intermingled 
with  rosy  streaks,  another  was  all  yellow  with  a  red 
collar  round  his  neck,  a  third  seemed  as  if  bespangled 
with  gold  with  a  bosom  like  the  rainbow.  The  per- 
fume of  tropical  seas  and  islands,  the  gladness  that 
descends  at  morn  on  the  forests  and  the  wilds  in 
regions  unexplored  save  by  our  fancy,  the  entrancing 
colours  of  exotic  skies  hovered  about  the  place,  and 
the  birds  filled  the  air  with  screams  and  clamour. 

"  Here  is  the  unlucky  bird,"  said  the  Queen. 
"  He  is  a  ridiculous  yet  pathetic  figure.  Colonel 
Voinesco  brought  him  from  Brazil.  He  was  born  in 
freedom,  and  I  suppose  he  detests  us  for  keeping 
him  here."  The  parrot  before  which  the  Queen  had 
stopped  was  smaller  than  the  others,  but  far  prettier. 
His  plumage  was  blue  and  green — such  deep  green 
and  intense  blue  that  it  glittered  like  lightning  in 
dewy  grass.     On  his  small,  well-poised  head  he  had 

lOI  G 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

a  huge  tiara  of  blue  feathers  which  moved  to  and  fro 
and  swung  like  the  swift  gleam  of  a  knife  blade.  His 
jet-black  beady  eyes  darted  a  hostile  look  at  us,  as 
with  ruffled  wings  he  silently  retreated  to  the  bottom 
of  his  cage. 

"  Do  look  at  him,"  said  the  Queen.  "  What  would 
he  not  give  to  be  able  to  bite  us  if  he  could,  if  only 
some  one  were  to  open  his  cage  and  touch  him,  but 
his  beak  is  so  sharp  he  might  give  a  bad  wound,  and 
no  one  cares  to  make  the  experiment.  No  one 
dares " 

"  Indeed  !  Does  no  one  dare  .''  How  foolish  !  "  It 
was  the  mellow  yet  caustic  voice  of  the  Archduke 
that  pronounced  these  words  with  an  ironical  inflec- 
tion lurking  under  the  purring  tones.  We  turned 
and  saw  him  advancing  briskly  towards  us.  His 
movements  showed  extraordinary  harmony  and  grace, 
and  his  bounding  step  seemed  hardly  to  touch  the 
ground.  There  was  something  airy,  almost  weird, 
about  his  figure  and  bearing,  and  I  have  never  been 
able  to  forget  the  pleasure  I  experienced  at  the  sight 
of  the  admirable  contour  of  his  form. 

Cautiously  the  Archduke  crept  to  the  other  side 
of  the  cage,  and  the  Queen  gave  a  scream  almost  of 
terror  when  she  saw  him  open  the  cage  door  with 
one  swift  movement  and  plunge  his  fingers  in  the 
parrot's  glittering  feathers.  The  slow  caress  lingered 
voluptuously  in  the  warmth  and  colour  of  the  close 
plumage,  and  the  bird  seemed  as  if  caught  in  the 
power   of  a    spell,  remaining  motionless   while  the 

I02 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

slender  hand  travelled  to  and  fro  over  his  glorious 
wings  and  shoulders.  All  at  once  the  bird  turned 
his  gorgeous  little  head  to  bite,  but  almost  as  sud- 
denly he  unfolded  his  wings  and  sounds  of  distress 
issued  from  his  struggling  bosom.  The  Archduke 
laughed — a  low,  rippling  laugh.  "  Ah,"  said  he, 
*'  I'll  not  kill  you  this  time,  you  cantankerous  little 
beauty.  But  this  will  teach  you  to  be  less  treacherous. 
Parrots  are  like  all  other  creatures,  one  has  to  be 
always  on  one's  guard  with  them."  And  then  we 
saw  that  while  he  was  playing  with  the  bird  he  had 
kept  his  thumb  and  first  finger  round  the  parrot's 
neck,  so  that  at  a  moment's  notice  he  could  have 
mastered  and  even  strangled  it. 

The  Queen  often  spoke  of  the  Archduke's  pene- 
trating intellect  and  strong  qualities  of  sagacity  and 
prudence  ;  moreover,  she  used  to  tell  us  how  well 
versed  he  was  in  every  language  spoken  in  the  vast 
empire  which  was  one  day  to  be  his.  Later,  when 
the  heartrending  tragedy  of  his  untimely  death  lent 
a  new  interest  to  his  personality,  many  tales  were 
told  about  the  ill-fated  young  Prince.  But  to  me 
he  has  remained  pictured  as  I  saw  him  that  day 
under  the  lofty  palms,  lost  in  languid  and  melancholy 
thought,  while  maybe  even  then  the  grim  future 
rose  before  him  in  the  blue  atmosphere  of  that  spring 
afternoon. 

The  Emperor  of  Austria  was  still  in  mourning  for 

his  unfortunate  son  and  heir  when  I  gazed  for  the 

first  time  upon  his  dear  mild  features.     From  the 

103 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS   I   HAVE   KNOWN 

very  windows  of  the  Hotel  Muntsch,  where  the  Em- 
peror came  to  call  upon  our  Sovereigns  immediately 
they  arrived  in  Vienna,  the  chapel,  or  rather  the  wall 
of  the  chapel  where  the  Archduke  was  buried,  could 
be  seen.  While  our  King  introduced  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  present  one  after  another  the  Emperor 
had  to  keep  his  eyes  from  straying  towards  the 
familiar  spot,  the  Church  of  the  Capucins,  beneath 
which  lay  the  vault  full  of  coffins. 

On  reaching  the  spot  where  I  was  standing  the 
Emperor  politely  exchanged  with  me  the  unvarying 
formula  on  such  occasions.  "  Is  it  your  first  visit  to 
Austria  ?  Do  you  like  Vienna  ^  I  hope  so.  .  .  ." 
But  my  thoughts  were  running  wild,  traversing  the 
narrow  street,  and  I  wondered  if  the  Emperor's  mind 
followed  the  same  track.  His  slim  figure,  as  supple 
and  well-knit  in  its  pure  white  uniform  as  that  of 
any  young  officer  in  his  army,  reminded  me  of  the 
flexible  grace  I  had  once  observed  in  the  figure  and 
walk  of  the  dead  Prince.  Again,  there  was  a  striking 
likeness  between  the  father's  withered  hand,  with  its 
long  delicate  fingers,  and  the  youthful  hand  which 
I  had  seen  resting  on  the  parrot's  bright  plumage 
dallying  with  the  bird's  life.  But  the  father's  eyes 
were  light  blue,  so  clear  and  soft  that  no  trace  could 
be  found  in  them  of  those  greenish  orbs  where  light 
and  shadow  had  mingled  like  the  dark  forms  of 
ships  passing  in  drowsy  haze  at  night. 

The  Emperor  spoke  again.  "  Have  you  visited 
any  of  our  monuments  at  Vienna  yet .''  "  and  I  could 

104 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

not  help  expressing  my  thoughts  in  words  :  "  Yes,  1 
have  seen  the  Imperial  vault.  But  I  went  to  see  the 
tomb  of  the  poor  young  King  of  Rome,  the  Duke 
of  Reichstadt,  I  mean.  His  was  such  an  unhappy 
fate,  though  scarcely  more  unfortunate  than  that  of 
his  father." 

"  Kings  and  Emperors  must  be  unhappy  because 
they  are  human.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  are  more 
unhappy  than  other  people,  but  their  position  forces 
them  to  endure  many  things  which  add  to  their 
common  sorrows.  When  you  go  to  Schonbrunn  be 
sure  to  visit  the  Duke  of  Reichstadt's  apartments. 
.  .  .'*  The  voice  had  not  faltered,  nor  the  gentle 
eyes  lost  their  calm  serenity,  as  I  uttered  the  impru- 
dent speech  I  would  have  given  worlds  to  recall,  but 
the  slender  figure  trembled  and  the  thin  hands  were 
clenched. 

It  is  an  extraordinary  coincidence  that  I  should 
have  been  brought  into  touch  first  with  the  Arch- 
duke, afterwards  with  the  Emperor,  and  later  still 
with  the  Empress,  in  circumstances  rendered  similar 
by  the  fact  that  they  came  upon  me  unawares  and  in 
such  manner  that  I  failed  to  recognise  them.  How 
this  happened  with  the  Emperor  and  later  on  with 
his  Consort  I  will  now  relate.  ...  On  our  return 
from  a  long  journey  in  Germany,  the  Queen,  my 
sister  and  myself  again  stopped  for  a  few  days  in 
Vienna,  where  '*  Carmen  Sylva  "  had  given  appoint- 
ments to  many  of  her  relations  and  friends  among  the 
Archduchesses.     Moreover,  a  drama  written  by  the 

105 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

royal  authoress  was  on  this  occasion  to  be  handed  to 
the  actors  of  the  Imperial  Burg  Theatre.  The 
Queen  was  travelling  in  the  strictest  inco^nito^  but 
scarcely  had  we  reached  the  hotel  and  finished  lunch 
than  her  Majesty  said  :  "  I  must  make  haste  and 
dress.  We  are  going  to  Schonbrunn.  This  time  I 
have  made  it  a  point  of  honour  to  forestall  the 
Emperor.  He  is  always  so  kind  and  polite  that  he 
calls  upon  me  directly  he  knows  of  my  presence  in 
Vienna.  I  want  to  be  beforehand  with  him  for  once. 
Order  a  carriage  now  and  I  will  be  down  in  ten 
minutes." 

I  was  pacing  the  long  hall  of  the  hotel,  waiting  for 
the  Queen  and  watching  the  ebb  and  flow  of  travel- 
lers whose  faces  I  could  not  well  distinguish  because 
of  my  short  sight  and  the  half  twilight,  when  all  at 
once  a  gentleman  walked  up  to  me  and,  lifting  his 
hat,  politely  said,  pointing  to  a  tray  on  the  table  at 
my  side  where  he  had  laid  a  card  :  "  This  card  is  for 
the  Queen  of  Roumania  ;  will  you  see  that  it  is  taken 
up  to  her  Majesty  directly .?  I  hope  you  have  had  a 
good  journey." 

*'  It  is  of  no  use  to  send  the  card  up  now.  The 
Queen  would  not  receive  any  one.  She  is  in  a  great 
hurry.  She  has  made  a  wager  with  herself  that  she 
will  call  upon  the  Emperor  before  he  has  time  to 
come  to  the  hotel.  Of  course  she  will  win,  because 
the  Emperor  could  not  come  at  such  short  notice 
unless  he  has  the  fastest  horses  in  the  world  and  any 

amount  of  energy." 

1 06 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

"  Maybe  he  has  both,"  answered  the  gentleman, 
whose  lithe  figure,  dressed  in  a  plain  black  coat, 
seemed  to  have  the  vigour  and  grace  of  youth,  but 
whose  visage  I  could  not  see  as  his  back  was  turned 
to  the  light.  He  went  on  :  "  But  what  would  you 
say  if  the  Emperor  were  even  more  fleet-footed  than 
his  horses  and  had  come  on  foot  from  the  Burg  to 
see  the  Queen  ?  " 

"  Impossible  at  his  age  and  in  such  a  crowd.  Why, 
every  one  would  recognise  him  and  gather  round 
him.  He  is  so  much  beloved  by  his  people — and  you 
cannot  imagine  how  much  our  Sovereigns  like  him." 

"  So  you  think  that  every  one  would  recognise 
the  Emperor .?  " 

"  Of  course — even  I  would  anywhere,  at  any 
moment.  His  face  is  not  a  peculiar  one,  but  he  has  a 
remarkable  expression  of  kindness,  and  it  could  never 
happen  that  I  should  have  the  pleasure  of  conversing 
with  him  without  knowing  who  he  was,  as  I  once  did 
in  the  case  of  his  nephew  and  son." 

"  Don't  be  so  sure  when  you  say  '  never.'  The 
Emperor  is  very  keen  on  giving  pleasure.  There  is 
nothing  he  enjoys  more.  But  I  must  take  leave  of 
you.  May  I  venture  to  ask  you  to  carry  that  card 
yourself  to  the  Queen  }  I  am  very  anxious  that 
her  Majesty  should  have  it  at  once.  Good-bye." 
The  charming  gentleman  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
me  and  vanished  amid  the  crowd  of  travellers.  I 
saw  his  tall,  supple  form  cross  the  threshold  and 
mingle  with  the  passers-by. 

107 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS   I   HAVE  KNOWN 

Turning  to  give  effect  to  his  wish  I  took  up  the 
card  and  read  the  simple  inscription  in  French  : 
"  L'Emp6reur  d'Autriche,  Roi  de  Hongrie."  The 
Queen's  defeat,  my  own  adventure,  the  Emperor's 
pleasant  manner  and  voice  all  tended  to  give  me 
wings  as  I  flew  upstairs.  "  Too  late,  too  late  !  "  I 
cried  on  perceiving  her  Majesty  who  stood  with 
bonnet  and  gloves  on.  "  The  Emperor  has  been 
here.  He  gave  me  his  card  himself.  I  actually 
talked  to  him  and  he  knows  that  your  Majesty 
wanted  to  prove  yourself  even  more  courteous  than 
he." 

"Still,  we  must  go  to  Schonbrunn  all  the  same," 
said  the  Queen. 

Next  day  we  went  down  into  the  Imperial  vault, 
where  cofiins  of  every  shape  and  size  stand  thick  ; 
some  of  them  are  of  simple  appearance,  bearing  on 
their  massive  silver  lids  merely  the  name  of  the 
dead  Prince  or  Princess  inscribed  on  a  slab  of  reddish 
copper.  But  the  Empress  Maria  Theresa,  the 
Emperors  Joseph  II.,  Ferdinand,  and  many  other 
potentates  who  have  ruled  the  nation,  repose  in  big 
silver  tombs  ornamented  with  crosses,  angels  and 
garlands.  Around  them  sleep  the  children  they 
nurtured  and  loved.  Against  the  wall  we  saw  the 
plain  glittering  coffin  in  which  the  remains  of  the 
Archduke  Rudolf  are  enclosed.  It  differs  from  the 
others  in  the  fact  that  it  is  always  covered  with 
wreaths  of  flowers.  The  difference  between  one 
recently  dead  and  those  of  an  earlier  period  is  also 

io8 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

marked  by  the  ever  burning  lamp  which  sheds  a 
hesitating  golden  light  on  the  dull  grey  metal. 
Nowhere  could  the  soul  be  more  deeply  impressed 
with  the  power  and  solemnity  of  death  than  beside 
that  heavy  silver  case.  Nowhere  does  the  human 
tongue  whisper  in  tones  more  awed  and  low :  "  If  he 
could  but  speak,  he  who  now  sleeps  for  ever  in  his 
tomb  of  triple  metal !  If  he  could  speak,  what 
might  he  not  relate,  what  mysteries  might  he  not 
unveil  ? "  A  few  paces  away,  on  a  coffin  now 
blackened  by  the  dusty  fingers  of  time,  a  thrilling 
inscription  rivets  the  eye  :  "  Here  lies  the  Duke  of 
Reichstadt,  Archduke  of  Austria,  son  of  Napoleon  I. 
and  of  his  spouse  Marie  Louise,  Archduchess  of 
Austria  and  Duchess  of  Parma."  Stronger  than 
the  tie  of  blood  the  relationship  of  a  dire  fate  links 
together  across  the  abyss  of  years  the  mysterious 
Rudolf  and  this  lonely  child,  the  sole  love  of  the 
Giant  Warrior,  the  mighty  conqueror  who  fell  from 
such  giddy  heights. 

Last  month  I  spent  half  an  hour  in  the  Capuciner 
Gruft,  as  the  Imperial  vault  is  called  in  Vienna. 
By  the  side  of  the  Archduke  now  rests  his  mother, 
and  the  same  soft  lamp  glimmers  above  both  coffins. 
Garlands  and  ribbons  lie  at  her  feet.  My  heart 
bled  within  me  at  the  sight  and  I  said  aloud:  "This 
is  no  place  for  thee,  for  such  a  lover  of  all  that  was 
bright  and  fair  upon  earth.  Alas  for  thee,  O 
wandering  Empress,   to   be   laid  here  in  darkness  ! 

But  for  thy  soul  which  now  perhaps  floats  through 

109 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

gardens  more  beautiful  even  than  those  which  thy 
fancy  traced  upon  the  edge  of  the  Grecian  sea,  I 
could  weep  to  behold  thy  remains  imprisoned  in  this 
gloomy  spot  where  the  dust  of  the  high  and  mighty 
keeps  aloof,  disdaining  to  be  contaminated  by  the 
touch  of  Mother  Earth,  mouldering  and  crumbling 
to  ashes  without  paying  to  Nature  the  tribute  of 
fertilisation  which  is  her  due.     Alas  for  thee  ! " 

As  I  spoke  my  voice,  though  subdued,  created  a 
strange  lugubrious  echo  in  the  dank  atmosphere  that 
hangs  over  the  dead,  and  the  day  when  I  had  met 
the  Empress  rose  before  my  mind,  a  day  in  early 
March  at  Wiesbaden.  I  had  started  from  my  hotel 
to  pay  my  respects  to  H.R.H.  Princess  Christian  of 
Schleswig-Holstein,  Princess  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland.  Her  daughters,  the  Princesses  Louise  and 
Victoria,  had  kindly  invited  me  to  tea,  but  when  I 
got  downstairs  I  found  on  looking  at  the  clock  that 
I  had  an  hour  to  spare.  To  pass  the  time  I 
strolled  out  into  the  street.  By-and-by  I  got  into 
a  long  avenue  leading  out  of  the  town  to  a  plain 
with  a  charming  little  forest  where  the  fresh  gusts 
of  the  breeze  brought  me  the  first  whiff  of  green 
verdure.  But  spring  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  the 
trunks  and  branches,  bereft  of  foliage,  stood  out  like 
dark  threads  against  the  light  grey  sky.  Though 
the  Rhine  was  invisible  yet  the  landscape  bore  that 
look  of  fluidity  and  freshness  which  marks  the 
neighbourhood  of  a  great  river.  So  charmed  was  I 
with  the  light  colouring  of  the  sky  and  landscape, 

I  lO 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

with  the  timid  efforts  of  the  breeze  in  its  endeavours 
to  hasten  the  coming  of  spring,  that  I  did  not  notice 
how  far  I  had  walked  nor  how  near  the  time  was 
approaching  for  my  visit  to  the  Princesses,  and  when 
I  turned  to  retrace  my  steps  I  found  to  my  despair 
that  I  had  completely  lost  my  way.  There  were 
more  than  twenty  footpaths  and  it  was  impossible 
to  tell  which  led  back  to  Wiesbaden  and  which  to 
the  Rhine  and  the  bridge.  At  this  juncture  a  lady 
made  her  appearance  on  the  other  side  of  the  road. 
She  was  very  tall,  and  wore  a  plain  grey  dress  that 
clung  closely  to  her  slim  figure.  A  huge  feather 
fan,  black  and  glossy,  hung  down  from  her  wrist. 
In  her  other  hand  she  bore  a  white  parasol  to  which 
her  black  sailor  hat  was  suspended  by  an  elastic  so 
that  the  hat  trembled  and  danced  at  each  step  she 
took.  She  stood  still  not  far  from  me  with  her 
head  uncovered,  revealing  hair  so  fine,  so  silken, 
that  notwithstanding  the  thickness  of  the  tresses 
piled  on  her  head  they  seemed  as  light  as  vapour 
touched  by  the  sun  at  sunset,  as  if  composed  of 
nothing  more  substantial  than  air  and  colour. 

She  made  a  gesture  of  brusque  protestation  as  1 
opened  my  lips  to  speak. 

*'  Pardon,  madam,"  I  said,  "  but  I  have  lost  my 
way.  Could  you  tell  me  which  of  all  these  roads 
and  footpaths  leads  back  to  Wiesbaden  ?  I  want  to 
return  to  the  town." 

"And  you  are  going  towards  the  Rhine,"  she 
answered. 

Ill 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

"  Then  it  must  be  the  attraction  of  the  water,  the 
voice  of  the  gay  Dryads,  that  calls  me." 

*'  The  attraction  of  the  water  ?  "  she  repeated.  '*I 
am  a  slave  of  the  Dryads,  and  the  Nereids  too.  I 
should  like  to  live  and  to  die  among  them,"  Her 
voice,  her  presence,  her  every  gesture  was  sad  and 
restless.  She  lifted  her  huge  black  fan  and  held  it 
across  her  face,  the  feathers  almost  kissed  her  eyes, 
and  in  those  eyes  I  saw  lights  and  shadows  pass.  .  .  . 
"  Go  that  way,"  she  said.  "  /  shun  cities,  and  I  wish 
that  I  could  turn  my  back  for  ever  upon  all  the 
cities  of  the  world."  With  these  words  she  passed 
through  the  bare  trunks  of  the  trees  towards  the 
river 

A  few  minutes'  brisk  walking  brought  me  back  to 
the  town,  and  I  hurried  on  to  the  hotel  where  I 
passed  a  delightful  hour  with  the  kind  and  clever 
Princesses.  After  tea  as  we  were  sitting  in  the  broad 
window  whence  we  could  see  the  passers-by,  Princess 
Victoria  said  :  "  Quick,  quick,  take  your  eyeglass. 
Look,  there  is  the  Empress  of  Austria.  That  tall  lady 
in  grey  !  "  I  saw  the  unknown  lady  I  had  met  in  the 
forest,  who  was  now  passing  amongst  the  crowd,  her 
black  hat  shading  her  whole  visage. 

The  Empress  never  learnt  my  name  though  she 
afterwards  showed  a  special  interest  in  my  work. 
She  kept  up  a  regular  exchange  of  letters  with  our 
Queen — not,  it  is  true,  the  easy  correspondence  which 
becomes  an  everyday  intercourse  between  friends, 
but  whenever  the  Empress  found  a  flower,  a  stone,  a 

1  12 


THE  EMPEROR  OF  AUSTRIA 

passage  in  a  poem  which  thrilled  her,  she  sent  the 
cause  of  her  emotion  to  the  Queen,  and  in  like 
manner  the  Queen  apprised  her  of  any  discovery  she 
made  in  the  field  of  literature,  art,  or  sentiment. 
Thus  the  Empress  was  the  first  to  appreciate  the 
collection  of  Roumanian  songs,  and  immediately  on 
receiving  an  early  copy  she  wrote  :  "  Send  me  as 
many  of  these  ballads  as  you  can.  Do  not  take  the 
trouble  to  copy  them  out  for  me,  send  me  the 
originals  with  the  mistakes  and  corrections,  and  keep 
the  good  copies  for  yourself  and  Helene.  I  call  her 
by  her  name  because  I  like  it.  It  is  a  Greek  name 
which  means  beauty  and  strife." 

Among  the  many  shadows  which  haunt  the  aged 
Emperor's  footsteps  hers  is  the  sweetest  and  the 
grandest,  and  her  name,  like  the  Greek  name  she 
loved,  has  already  been  inscribed  on  the  pages  of 
history  as  meaning  Beauty,  Grief,  and  a  fierce  desire 
for  Space  and  Liberty. 


"3 


PItoloby  Keichard  i.~  Lindner,  lierlin 
EMPHROR  WILLIAM   H.   OF  GERMANY 


THE  GERMAN    EMPEROR 

If  to  speak  of  oneself,  and  to  cause  oneself  to  be 
spoken  of,  on  every  possible  occasion  suffices  to  make 
a  man  great,  then  the  German  Emperor  is  a  great 
man.  If  to  handle  every  instrument,  to  dabble  with 
every  art — possessing  the  conviction  that  one  under- 
stands them  better  than  those  who  have  applied  both 
time  and  mind  to  their  technique — suffices  to  con- 
stitute him  a  genius,  then  William  of  Germany  is  a 
genius  indeed.  If  to  startle  and  shock  public 
opinion,  and  even  at  times  to  dominate  it,  can  suffice 
to  proclaim  a  monarch  more  powerful  than  any  other, 
then  the  German  Emperor  is  the  most  powerful 
monarch  of  the  day.  If  to  be  an  admirable  artist 
it  suffices  to  display  or  put.into  force  as  many  original 
and  incoherent  ideas  as  possible,  the  German  Emperor 
is  an  admirable  artist.  Finally,  if  to  be  a  hero  it 
suffices  to  hold  complete  sway  over  the  imagination 
of  millions,  the  German  Emperor  may  well  boast  of 
being  the  ideal  heroic  personage  to  whom  all  turn  in 
wonder  and  admiration ;  and  he  must  take  pride  in 
the  conviction  that  he  possesses  worshippers  and 
detractors  as  numerous  and  untiring  as  the  waves  of 

the  sea. 

117 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Upon  the  horizon  of  contemporary  events  his 
strange,  aggressive  silhouette  stands  out  erect  and 
clear.  In  a  century  where  each  individual  seems  to 
have  seen  and  known  everything  and  everybody,  he 
yet  remains  amongst  the  few  personalities  whose 
names  create  a  sensation  when  one  can  say :  "  I  have 
actually  seen  him,  I  have  spoken  with  William  the 
Second."  The  perpetual  transformation  of  his  various 
attitudes  of  mind  as  of  his  costumes  has  perhaps 
helped  to  make  him  more  popular  even  than  his  other 
characteristics,  which  are  always  extraordinary,  though 
they  appear  natural  because  they  are  his.  Proteus 
alone  in  the  realm  of  mythological  lore,  and  Shake- 
speare in  the  domain  of  creative  emotion,  had  hitherto 
accustomed  us  to  the  wonderful  changes  which  may 
be  wrought  in  human  souls  and  bodies  in  one  brief 
moment.  But  whereas  Proteus,  who  became  in  turn 
a  stream,  a  living  flame,  a  tempest,  and  a  wild  beast, 
was  meant  to  incarnate  the  subtle  power  of  the  natural 
elements  ;  and  whereas  Shakespeare  represented  in 
the  varying  moods  of  his  characters  the  symbols  of 
our  destiny,  the  Emperor's  intentions  are  neither  so 
subtle  nor  so  deep  on  his  appearance  thrice  a  day  in 
three  diverse  uniforms.  He  belongs  to  an  age  when 
rapidity  of  action  is  deemed  a  virtue,  and  his  chief 
wish  is  to  stand  as  the  faithful  image  of  his  time. 
How  many  kings,  queens,  heroes,  or  heroines  are  there 
who,  like  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  still  hold  sway  over 
the  imagination,  whose  memories  from  the  darkest 
depths  of  bygone  ages  still  arise  to  thrill  us  with  the 

ii8 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

grandeur  and  the  sadness  of  their  fate  !  How  many 
yet  rule  the  imagination  of  poets  and  philosophers, 
and  can  never  die  while  our  interest,  our  pity,  or  our 
worship  keep  them  alive  !  William  of  Germany 
wishes,  like  these  chosen  few,  to  survive  in  the  memory 
of  his  people. 

In  every  way  and  in  every  sense  of  the  word  he  is 
ambitious.  And  his  larger  ambitions  are  fair  and 
pure,  although  at  times  some  may  border  on  petty 
vanity.  But  how  often  does  he  cast  a  glance  into 
the  future  to  challenge  that  mute  crowd  called  pos- 
terity, how  many  times  does  he  whisper  to  himself  in 
the  silence  of  his  sleepless  nights  :  "  Shall  I  be  among 
those  whose  memory  is  ever  remembered  and  ever 
revered  ^  Will  my  deeds  be  recorded  in  the  same  loud 
tones  in  which  my  speeches  and  commands  are 
uttered  .''  "  Of  course  no  one  can  tell  what  William 
the  Second  thinks  in  these  matters,  but  what  may  be 
safely  asserted  is  that  thought  or  fear  of  death  never 
enters  his  soul.  He  lives  in  the  security  that  he 
cannot  die. 

I  never  fail  to  read  his  innumerable  speeches, 
because  of  the  utter  candour  for  which  they  are 
remarkable.  The  author  has  perfect  faith  in 
himself  and  in  his  infallibility,  and  this  he  proclaims 
in  every  word.  In  order  to  enjoy  them  the  more 
completely,  I  recall  the  days  when  I  was  present  to 
hear  the  Emperor  utter  his  pompous  or  his  simple 
phrases.  I  see  again  his  imperious  glance,  his  firm 
mouth  and  clenched  fists,  I  hear  his  voice  as  it  falls 

1 19  H 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

with  the  dry  sound  of  an  iron  hammer  upon  each 
syllable.  The  strong  assurance  that  he  cannot  in  any 
case  be  interrupted  must  always  endow  an  orator  with 
a  firm  grasp  of  his  own  sentiments  and  those  of  his 
audience.  In  this  mastery  the  Emperor  revels,  and  I 
believe  that  when  all  his  speeches  are  collected  and 
published  in  one  enormous  volume,  the  literature  of 
the  world  will  be  enriched  by  a  masterpiece  of  self- 
reliance  and  didactic  eloquence.  His  mystic  and 
warlike  rhapsodies  are  as  complete,  as  violent,  and 
as  great  in  their  way  as  the  sermons  of  Bossuet,  the 
dreams  of  Shakespeare,  and  the  famous  love-letters 
of  Mademoiselle  de  I'Espinasse.  But,  unlike  Bossuet 
before  the  mortal  remains  of  Louis  XIV.  saying  : 
*'  My  brethren,  God  alone  is  great,"  the  Emperor 
ever  says :   "  I  alone,  I  am  great,  O  my  people." 

Notwithstanding  these  strictures  and  any  to  be 
made  hereafter,  I  sincerely  hope  that  my  readers  will 
discern  that  I  am  an  admirer  of  the  German  poten- 
tate and  hero — for  he  is  a  hero,  and  this  all  but 
unique  quality  will  suffice  to  place  him  far  above 
every  living  sovereign  of  our  day.  He  is  a  hero, 
and  in  his  desire  to  remain  a  hero  he  knows 
neither  rest  nor  fear.  All  who  follow  his  career 
step  by  step  must  allow  that  in  the  warmth  and 
accomplishment  of  this  desire  lies  the  secret  of  his 
force.  For  the  achievements  of  a  man  must  appear 
heroic  and  sublime  when  he  not  only  does  his  best 
and  his  utmost  to  attain  his  ideal  every  hour  of 
the  day,  but  when    wt   see  him    breathe  as  freely 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

and  as  eagerly  the  cold  air  of  the  high  summits 
on  which  he  is  placed  as  if  there  were  on  his  shoul- 
ders no  weight  of  an  imperial  mantle.  Every  one 
must  allow  that  a  hero  who  draws  continual 
heroism  out  of  the  smallest  actions  of  everyday  exist- 
ence is  a  poet  worthy  of  the  name  though  uncon- 
scious of  his  calling.  He  may  be  said  to  be  the 
wealthiest  amongst  the  wealthy ;  he  tastes  a  joy 
that  others  will  never  know,  since  that  art  which 
caused  Leonardo  da  Vinci  equally  with  Caesar  Borgia 
to  pursue  and  attain  the  pitch  of  real  emotions,  to 
learn  and  teach  the  pleasures  of  eternal  pursuit,  the 
Emperor  of  Germany  possesses  in  its  entirety  ;  and 
in  this  respect  he  may  be  said  also  to  resemble  the 
manly  heroes  of  the  Italian  Renaissance. 

Each  of  his  intellectual  gifts  is  inherited  from 
his  mother ;  he  is  likest  his  father  when  in  a 
gracious  mood  and  boyish  in  words  and  bearing. 
It  is  necessary  to  make  occasional  reference  to 
mythology  in  describing  him,  because  he  forms  a 
parallel  to  the  ancient  myth  that  represents  Phaeton, 
whose  father  Apollo  entrusted  him  for  a  whole  day 
with  the  glorious  duty  of  driving  the  chariot  of  the 
sun  along  its  golden  pathway.  Like  Phaeton's 
chariot,  the  one  that  William  guides  with  hands  and 
eyes  unmoved  is  fiery  and  magnificent,  but  over  the 
taut  stretched  reins  his  nervous  fingers  are  closed  with 
a  sure  grasp,  and  the  firm  gaze  of  the  imperial  sun- 
god  is  not  abased  before  the  brilliant  rays  which  con- 
centrate their  fierce  light  upon  him.     In  the   history 

121 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  nations  as  of  individuals  mankind  is  divided  into 
two  classes  :  on  one  side  are  the  sowers,  on  the  other 
the  reapers ;  there  are  those  who  toil  and  dig  and 
those  who  gather  and  enjoy.  The  German  Emperor 
is  a  reaper,  an  eager,  hopeful  reaper,  who  leaves  not 
a  sheaf  unturned,  not  a  grain  in  the  furrow  behind 
him.  The  double  images  above  his  head,  images  of 
the  sower,  the  grandfather  who  always  smiles,  and  of 
the  stern  Count  who  always  frowns,  have  been  unable 
to  deter  him  from  the  pursuance  of  his  self-set  task. 
What  land  does  the  German  Emperor  not  know  ^ 
under  what  sky  has  he  not  passed .''  what  town  has 
not  received  him  with  flags  and  honours .''  what 
historic  city  has  not  acclaimed  him  ?  He  has  roamed 
in  the  Holy  Land,  has  heard  the  muezzin  call  from 
Egyptian  towers,  watched  the  violet  twilight  die  in 
the  northern  skies,  and  for  him  the  palm  forests  of 
Arabia  have  lulled  the  moon  to  sleep  among  their 
branches  in  the  softness  of  an  oriental  night.  He 
has  stepped  into  the  dusky  coolness  of  learned  and 
worm-eaten  universities,  and  basked  in  the  pagan 
beauty  of  Florence,  Sicily  and  Naples.  He  has  lin- 
gered among  the  divine  marbles  of  the  Parthenon, 
and  the  eternal  divinity  of  their  form  and  grace 
lives  in  his  soul.  Rome  has  watched  him  as  he 
passed  through  her  streets  and  suburbs  away  from 
the  din  of  the  city.  In  Europe  one  land  alone  he 
has  forgotten,  the  land  that  is  dear  to  me  because  it 
is  mine.  It  is  an  extraordinary  fact  that  in  all  his 
wanderings  the  German  Emperor  has  never  returned 

I  22 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

the  numerous  visits  paid  him  by  the  Roumanian 
King,  never  even  sent  a  representative  of  royal  blood, 
though  he  has  at  all  times  been  aware  that  he  would 
be  a  welcome  guest  to  this  country.   .   .  . 

The  German  Emperor  has  played  all  the  parts  in 
an  historical  repertoire  :  he  has  been  in  turn  a  pontiff 
without  consecration,  a  warrior  without  battles  or 
foes,  a  dramatist  without  drama ;  but  he  has  always 
remained  the  same  imperious,  subtle  personage  in  all 
his  diverse  incarnations.  He  possesses  in  a  supreme 
degree  the  art  of  pleasing,  and  yet  at  the  same  time 
hurting  people's  feelings.  Gaiety  and  wrath  are  not 
with  him,  as  with  Napoleon,  instruments  ready  to 
hand,  but  his  humour  varies  from  one  moment  to 
the  other,  and  so  rapidly  that  in  the  same  hour  he 
may  be  kind  or  obstinately  cruel.  He  may  appear 
to  some  entirely  hard-hearted  or  entirely  kind.  In 
truth  he  is  neither  ;  he  is  the  Emperor — that  is  to 
say,  a  being  impatient,  haughty,  eager  to  please  and 
astonish,  strong-minded,  omniscient,  omnipresent. 
To  complete  the  circle  but  one  thing  is  lacking — 
the  charm  of  mystery,  that  enchantment  which  is 
spread  like  a  spell,  and  which  lived  in  the  magic 
force  of  the  Sphinx  of  the  Pharaohs,  in  the  shrine 
where  Isis  was  adored,  and  even  threw  a  halo  of 
romance  around  such  a  monarch  as  Philip  the  Second 
of  Spain.  The  German  Emperor  does  not  possess 
it.  He  is  of  all  living  monarchs  the  least  mysterious 
and  the  least  invisible.  He  loves  pageants  and  out- 
ward ceremonies  as  if  he  were  filled  with  a  desire  to 

1*3 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

demonstrate  with  what  ease  he  can  summon  armies 
and  splendour  around  him. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  impression  he  creates 
in    France.      In    Paris   especially  the   discussion    he 
arouses  is  ever  keen  and  alert,  and  to  bring  his  name 
into  conversation  in  a  Paris  salon  is  always  an  excel- 
lent means  of  arousing  violent   controversy.     "  He 
is  a   genius  !  "  says  one.     "  No,  a  prig,  a  cabotin^'' 
says  another.      *'  He  is  the  finest  orator  of  the  day, 
and  if  he  wrote  the  leading  articles  in  some  of  our 
papers,   who    could    compete   with  him.?" — "Bah! 
do   you  believe  him  capable  of  any  serious  work  ? 
Allans  done  !  " — '*  But  look  at  his  portrait — what  a 
face,  what  eyes  !     He  ought  to  have  been  a   French 
general  or  the   Emperor  of   France.     He  loves   le 
panache^   and    so    do   we." — "  It   is    a  disgrace   for 
a    Frenchman     to     utter     such     words !  " — "  But, 
mon    chtr^  I  simply  meant  that   he  ought  to    have 
been    born    and    educated    in    France.   .   .   .   He    is 
not  a  Teuton  ;  no,  he  has  many  qualities  belonging 
to  the  Latin  race."     And  at  this  point  a  person  in- 
tervenes who  immediately  becomes  the  centre  of  the 
debate :   he  says,   "  I   have   seen   the   Emperor,   and 
enjoyed  long  conversations  with  him."     Then  every 
one  present  is  eager  to  listen,  and  detractors  and 
admirers  alike  await  in  fervid  silence  the  opinion  of 
the  person  who  has  actually  met  the  ruler  of  Germany 
face  to  face. 

Above   all    things  the   Emperor  hates   the  small 
commonplaces  of  ordinary  conversation,  even  within 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

the  restricted  space  of  a  Court  circle  where  all  are 
bent  on  finding  whatever  he  says  clever  and  gracious. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  three  days  I  spent  under 
the  same  roof  with  the  Imperial  German  pair  at  the 
princely  castle  of  Sigmaringen.  Sigmaringen  Schloss 
has  for  many  hundred  years  belonged  to  the  Catholic 
branch  of  the  Hohenzollern  family,  who  bear  no 
relationship  whatever  to  the  younger  and  more 
prosperous  line — those  Protestant  Hohenzollerns 
who  are  now  masters  of  the  German  realm.  The 
oldest  Hohenzollerns  bow  in  deep  worship  before  the 
fortune  of  their  cadets,  and  are  ever  anxious  to  pro- 
claim blood  ties  which  may  not  in  reality  exist,  while 
the  younger  branch  occasionally  deign  to  admit  the 
vague  kinship  now  lost  in  the  darkness  of  bygone 
days.  The  King  and  Queen  of  Roumania  had 
arrived  at  the  castle  beforehand  in  order  to  receive 
their  imperial  guests.  The  Royal  abode  was  full  to 
overflowing.  A  great  number  of  German  Princes 
and  Princesses  were  assembled,  together  with  Prince 
and  Princess  Leopold  of  Hohenzollern,  in  mingled 
fear  and  pleasure  at  the  honour  of  meeting  the 
German  Emperor,  who  was  related  to  most  of  them 
by  some  distant  tie.  Many  of  them  were  petty 
potentates  who,  while  trembling  to  appear  as  his 
vassals,  yet  struggled  against  the  secret  conviction 
that  such  is  the  case.  However,  a  great  display  of 
military  pomp  generally  conceals  all  such  emotions. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  suite  of  apartments 
destined  for  me  in  the  castle,  I  found  on  the  large 

125 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

table  a  complete  programme  of  the  festivities  which 
were  to  follow  the  arrival  of  the  Imperial  pair, 
wherein  also  the  exact  dresses  to  be  worn  at  the 
station  and  in  the  evening  were  defined.  All  around 
us  the  atmosphere  vibrated  with  the  excitement  of 
the  approaching  visit,  but  during  the  afternoon  I 
had  a  few  moments  which  I  could  call  my  own. 
Gazing  from  the  windows  far  away  over  the  dark 
curving  hills  of  the  unknown  land,  I  looked  back 
into  the  past  and  remembered  that  the  castle  where 
we  now  found  ourselves  was  in  the  hands  of  a  Prince 
descended  in  the  direct  female  line  from  the  Murat 
and  the  Beauharnais  families,  who  thus  bore  in  his 
veins  the  blood  of  the  French  bourgeoisie  and  of  the 
glorious  soldier  who  was  at  one  time  inn-keeper  and 
waiter.  This  visit  paid  by  the  German  Emperor  to 
the  old  feudal  fortress  somehow  represented  the 
visit  of  the  present  victor  to  the  victories  of  the  past, 
to  the  great  Napoleon  himself,  by  whose  stern  will 
German  princes  had  in  years  gone  by  been  forced  to 
marry  young  girls  of  little  importance  such  as  "  la 
petite  Stephanie  et  la  petite  Murat." 

At  the  station  next  day  I  felt  disappointed  to  find 
such  an  immense  crowd  of  Princes,  officers,  and  high 
personages  in  gaudy  uniforms,  that  I  realised  at 
once  how  utterly  impossible  it  would  be  to  catch 
even  a  glimpse  of  the  Emperor.  Bugles  were  sounded, 
troops  were  marshalled  and  paraded  by.  Court  trains 
trailed  along  over  thick  red  carpets  ;  a  high  wall  of 
human  forms,  all  very  tall  and  pompous,  rose  between 

126 


THE  GERMAN   EMPEROR 

me  and  the  place  where  the  train  would  stop.    Yet, 
when  at  last  it  did  arrive,  I  actually  saw  the  Emperor. 
I  saw  him  in  the  narrow  interstice  left  between  the 
shoulder    of  a   silk-clad    Royal  Highness   and  the 
sleeve  of  a  hussar !     But  it  was  only  as  in  a  flash  I 
saw  the  pale  cold  visage,  the  flaming  eyes  and  stern 
mouth.     In  another  moment  the  Emperor  had  sprung 
lightly  to  the  ground,  followed  closely  by  the  Empress, 
whose  rippling  laugh  I  heard  quite  near  to  me,  while 
much  kissing  went  on  and  afi^ectionate  greetings  were 
exchanged.     We  all  hastened  to   the  perron,  as  we 
wanted  to  see  the  Emperor   enter   the  carriage  and 
bow  to  the  crowd.     After  several  minutes  spent  in 
a  short  promenade  in  front  of  the  troops,  he  made 
his  appearance  at  a  spot  where  I  stood  only  a  few  steps 
from  him.     The  twilight  was  falling  softly,  and  in 
the  first  glimmer  of  the  evening  shadows  he  appeared 
to  me  even  more  extraordinarily  pale  than  at  first 
sight.     No  smile  parted  his  lips  as  he  threw  his  eyes 
to  the  centre  of  the  multitude  gathered  in  his  honour, 
and  whose  repeated  and  joyful  exclamations  seemed 
to  leave  him  quite  unmoved ;    but  that   look  as  it 
lingered    and   plunged    to   the    very  depths  of    the 
assembled  people  made  every  nerve  thrill  like   the 
muscles  of  the  Arabian  steed  who  feels  his  master's 
fingers  creep  lazily  through  his  mane. 

The  Emperor  wore  a  black  uniform  set  ofl^  by 
white  metal  buttons  and  silver  ornaments  ;  his  black 
helmet,  too,  was  bordered  with  silver.  The  Empress 
was  in  a  soft  white  dress.    We  followed  in  the  rear 

127 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  the  gorgeous  procession,  and  as  we  ascended  the 
narrow  streets  of  the  small  city  to  the  roar  of  cannon, 
the  chiming  of  church  bells,  and  the  hum  of  human 
cheers  repeated  from  window  to  window,  we  seemed 
to  wend  our  way  through  an  ocean  of  harmonious 
sounds,  while  above  towered  the  huge  Castle  with 
its  terraces  and  balconies  all  ablaze. 

We  saw  nothing  more  of  the  Imperial  guests  till 
evening,  because  they  retired  to  rest  and  afterwards 
dined  privately  with  the  Princes  present  in  the  Castle; 
but  at  nine  o'clock  we  all  assembled  in  the  vast  state- 
room, and  as  each  took  his  or  her  allotted  place  in 
the  circle  hearts  were  beating  high,  eyes  kindled  with 
impatience  and  eagerness.  Fans  and  flowers  trembled 
in  small  nervous  hands,  and  ever  and  anon  we  turned 
towards  the  door  whence  the  Royal  cortege  would 
descend  into  the  hall  by  the  three  steps  separating 
it  from  the  state  room.  Yet  I  was  not  so  lost  in 
contemplation  of  the  stately  threshold  for  the  remark 
suddenly  to  occur  to  me  that  I  was  the  only  person 
in  that  immense  circle  who  belonged  to  the  Latin 
race.  But  all  the  dames  cThonneur  and  oflicials  proved 
exceedingly  kind  and  courteous,  and  if  somewhat 
shocked  by  the  freedom  of  my  words  or  manners, 
never  showed  it,  but  treated  the  youthful  foreigner 
like  an  honoured  guest,  telling  me  I  must  occupy 
first  place  in  the  circle  as  I  belonged  to  a  kingly 
court,  and  stationed  me  quite  close  to  the  door 
where  two  ushers  stood   on   guard  like   two  statues 

of  gold  and  silver. 

128 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

The  first  chamberlain  enters  and  strikes  thrice 
upon  the  ground  with  a  long  golden  rod,  reminding 
one  of  the  three  sharp  blows  given  on  the  floor  of  the 
stage  in  French  theatres  when  the  curtain  is  about 
to  rise.  Then  a  great  silence,  a  long  pause,  the  door 
is  thrown  open,  and  the  Emperor  of  Germany  appears. 
The  Queen  of  Roumania  is  leaning  on  his  arm,  and 
they  stop  for  a  few  seconds  before  descending  the 
three  steps.  His  head,  proudly  thrown  back,  is 
resplendent  in  the  full  light  concentrated  on  the  spot 
by  lamps  and  chandeliers.  His  military  costume  is 
of  dazzling  white,  relieved  only  by  the  crimson  ribbon 
of  the  Roumanian  order  across  his  breast,  and  he 
looks  radiant  though  very  grave.  The  Queen  of 
Roumania  glides  along  by  his  side  in  a  dress  airily 
traversed  with  threads  of  silver,  which  give  it  the 
effect  of  billows  at  rest  under  the  gaze  of  the  moon. 
The  Emperor's  face  is  serene,  but  it  wears  no  smile, 
and  again  I  admire  those  large  wonderful  eyes,  eyes 
whose  colour  and  depth  and  sternness  can  be  com- 
pared to  jewelled  Toledo  blades,  where  gold  and 
iron  blend  like  blazing  rays  of  the  sun  and  cold  flashes 
of  stormy  lightning.  With  those  eyes  the  Emperor 
of  Germany  might  wander  incognito  and  wearing  a 
mask,  yet  never  fail  to  be  recognised.  Taking  care 
to  keep  his  spurs  from  touching  the  fleecy  clouds  of 
the  Queen's  fragile  train,  he  advances  with  measured 
steps,  though  his  tread  is  elastic,  impatient  like  that 
of  a  boy.  The  Empress,  our  King,  the  Count  and 
Countess  of  Flanders,  all   follow  in  due  order,  but 

1*9 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

I  cannot  spare  a  glance  for  their  entrance.  The 
Emperor  and  Queen  have  stopped  suddenly  right 
in  front  of  us.  I  believe  I  really  looked  as  startled 
as  I  felt,  wretchedly  embarrassed,  yet  so  eager,  so 
tumultuous  in  the  way  I  made  my  reverence,  that 
before  addressing  me  the  Emperor  laughed,  highly 
amused,  and  the  Queen  said  to  him  :  *'  Here's  a  little 
girl  to  whom  this  hour  is  of  such  deep  meaning  that 
she  has  not  slept  all  night  for  thought  of  the  honour 
and  joy  awaiting  her.  You  can  see  how  moved  she 
is."  ..."  Why  so  ?  "  asked  the  Emperor  briskly, 
throwing  back  his  head,  while  a  sense  of  fun  crept 
over  his  open  countenance.  "  Why  so  ^  This  very 
young  and  imposing  lady  has  already  known  so  many 
great,  so  many  remarkable  men,  far  greater  and  more 
remarkable  than  myself.  She  has  seen  Emperors, 
too,  I  hear,  so  one  more  or  one  less  cannot  be  of  much 
account.  I  am  told,  madam  " — and  he  spoke  in  grave 
tones — "  that  you  have  as  a  child  enjoyed  the  rare 
privilege  of  spending  long  evenings  with  Victor  Hugo 
in  his  home.  Your  Queen  says  that  you  have  many 
interesting  tales  to  tell  about  him.  So  how  can  you 
be  moved  in  my  presence  when  you  have  been  in  the 
presence  of  Genius  .''  " 

As  I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  find  an  answer 
the  Emperor  resumed.  "You  could  never  have 
believed,  would  you,  that  you  possess  over  me  a 
superiority  which  indeed  I  envy  you  ?  I  have  en- 
joyed almost  all  the  sight-seeing  worth  the  trouble, 
but   I    never    saw    Victor   Hugo   nor  met  any  real 

130 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

literary  genius.  Was  he  very  much  bowed  down  by 
old  age  ?  Did  he  speak  distinctly  ?  What  were  his 
favourite  topics  ?  " 

By  this  time  I  had  almost  recovered  my  com- 
posure ;  the  Queen  smiled  encouragement,  and  the 
Emperor  drew  me  out  little  by  little.  He  inter- 
rupted almost  every  sentence  twice  or  thrice,  putting 
sharp  interrogations,  which  he  uttered  in  an  affirma- 
tive tone — questions  such  as  this  :  '*  Am  I  not  mis- 
taken when  I  think  " — whose  clear  meaning  was 
— "  I  cannot  be  mistaken  !  "  And  he  repeatedly  bit 
his  under-lip  with  teeth  so  sharp  that  the  traces  of 
them  were  seen  on  the  pale  skin,  an  imperious 
nervous  habit  which  conveyed  the  idea  of  peremptory 
force  and  impatient  wilfulness,  an  order  to  go  on 
in  a  rapid  way  without  bothering  him  with  hesita- 
tion or  useless  details.  He  seemed  to  hold  between 
his  fingers  an  iron  thread  that  guided  my  words. 
"  You  write  in  French,  don't  you  ?  You'll  finish  by 
writing  in  your  own  language,  won't  you  }  I  know 
you  love  writing  French  and  speaking  English.  It 
is  why  I  have  addressed  you  in  the  language  which  is 
pleasantest  for  conversation — at  least  one  of  the 
pleasantest  " — the  Emperor  corrected  himself. 

"  English  is  also  fast  becoming  the  language  of 
Courts,"  said  I.  A  quick  frown  warned  me  that 
I  was  treading  upon  forbidden  ground,  and  the 
Emperor  cut  me  short  in  a  murmured  apology. 
"  Well,  we  will  talk  of  Paris,  literature,  and  your 
own  pursuits  to-morrow.     You  see,"  and  he  turned 

131 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

towards  the  immense  circle  that  watched  his  every 
gesture,  "  I  have  all  these  people  to  entertain,  many 
friends  and  acquaintances  among  them,"  and  with 
hasty  step  he  walked  off.  In  the  meantime  our  Queen 
had  also  lost  herself  in  the  group  of  Princesses,  and 
I  tried  in  vain  to  discover  the  place  where  her 
Majesty  stood,  as  I  wanted  to  thank  her  for  having 
called  the  Emperor's  attention  to  me.  The  German 
Empress  was  also  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  ladies,  so 
I  wandered  listlessly  through  the  gaudy  multitude, 
when  a  light  tap  on  my  shoulder  made  me  start,  and 
I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  my  Queen. 

**  You  have  not  been  introduced  to  the  Empress, 
and  it  is  getting  late,  come  along,"  so  I  followed 
obediently.  Clad  in  a  charming  dress  of  yellow  silk, 
the  Empress,  with  face  wreathed  in  smiles,  was 
telling  the  ladies  around  her  some  incident  that  had 
happened  in  a  Berlin  hospital  which  she  patronised 
and  visited  twice  a  week — some  difference  between 
nurses  and  doctors.  She  beckoned  to  us  in  a  gracious 
manner,  and,  after  shaking  hands  with  me,  continued 
her  easy,  lively  narrative,  after  giving  the  new- 
comers a  rapid  description  of  the  first  part  of  her 
story.  The  German  Empress  is  called  all  over  the 
realm  "  Die  echte  Deutsche  Frau,"  and  no  appella- 
tion could  better  describe  her  sweet  placid  counten- 
ance, her  fair  complexion,  and  the  extreme  modesty 
and  naive t^  of  her  speech  and  manner.  There 
is    something   fresh  and    genuine   about   her   which 

reminds  one  of   the  simple  heroines  celebrated  by 

132 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

German  poets  in  lieder  and  ballads.      When  about  to 
retire  she  said :  "I  have  asked  your  Queen  to  send 
me  her  translation  of  your  Roumanian  ballads.     I 
am  so  sorry  you  have  not  the  book  with  you.     I  am 
passionately  fond  of  folk-lore  ;  that  is  what  I  call 
practical    literature,   and    I    like    learning  to  know 
nations  through  the  songs  of  the  people.  .   .   .   No, 
I  am  not  at  all  tired  "  ;  the   Empress  answered  a 
question  put  by  the  Countess  of  Flanders.     "  Dear 
Marie,  we  travel  so  comfortably,  and  we  see  cheerful 
faces  and  feel  the  warmth  of  glad  hearts  whenever  we 
cease  to  look  upon  our  sweet  German  forests  and 
hills  and  rivers.     So  travelling  is  quite  a  treat  to  us. 
The  Emperor  also  likes  travelling  abroad,  but  my 
preference  is  for  these  journeys  where  at  every  turn 
of  the  road  we  find  ourselves  at  home."     The  Em- 
press was  moving  away  and  before  her  steps  the  crowd 
respectfully  receded.      "  Have  you  noticed  the  dia- 
mond her  Majesty  wears  in  her  hair — that  solitary 
stone  set  high  like  a  trembling  star — or  a  tear  .? " 
asked  one  of  the  Princes  of  me,  as  I  returned  to  my 
place.     "  It  is  a  pathetic  and  precious  gem,  a  relic 
indeed — the  diamond  which    shone    in    Napoleon's 
triangular  hat,  le  petit  chapeau  du  caporal^  when  it  was 
found  by  Blucher's  troops  under  a   tree   after  the 
battle  of  Waterloo.     Go  and  have  a  good  look  at  it." 
In  haste  I  returned  to  where  the  Empress  was,  and, 
standing  behind,  tried  in  vain  to  perceive  the  huge 
diamond.      Her   Majesty  was    about    to   reach   the 
door   and  disappear,  when,  turning  round,  she  per- 

»33 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

ceived  me,  and  with  astonishing  intuition  exclaimed  : 
"  Now,  you  desire  to  see  my  jewels — don't  be  fright- 
ened, but  come  in  front  of  me.  These  pearls  are 
lovely,  but  too  big.  Look  at  the  diamond  ;  I  always 
wear  it."  But  it  was  in  vain  that  I  waited  to  hear 
from  the  Empress'  lips  any  confirmation  of  what  I 
had  been  told. 

Next  morning  I  awoke  with  that  delightful  and 
rare  consciousness  that  something  very  bright  and 
unusual  had  happened,  and  was  about  to  happen 
again.  An  hour  after  I  was  walking  briskly  along 
the  banks  of  the  river,  and  as  I  watched  the  Danube 
glide  peacefully  by,  the  prospect  of  meeting  the  Em- 
peror again  fell  on  my  soul  as  gently  as  the  rays  of 
the  ascending  sun.  It  was  a  cool,  crisp  morning,  and 
streaks  of  blue  mist  hung  round  the  trees  and  above 
the  waters,  and  I  said  to  the  Danube  :  "  Alack,  dear 
rivulet,  thou  knowest  not  under  what  clear  skies  thy 
waves  will  ripple  before  reaching  their  goal.  Thou 
flowest  towards  my  own  native  land,  dear  little  river, 
and  there  thou  becomest  as  great  and  powerful  as  the 
sea.  No  wet  mornings,  no  mists  to  lie  heavily  upon 
thee  thus.  Thou  flowest  fast  to  reach  my  native 
land." 

After  a  long  constitutional  I  decided,  before  re- 
turning to  the  Castle,  to  take  a  turn  in  the  avenue 
called  Prinzen  Allee,  where  all  the  royalties  and 
most  of  the  inmates  of  the  Castle  were  strolling 
about  after  early  breakfast.  Sovereigns  and  Princes 
were  there,  Princesses,  Generals  and  Aides-de-camp, 

134 


THE  GERMAN   EMPEROR 

and  ladies  in  all  varieties  of  costume.  The  Empress 
was  in  a  light  grey  morning  blouse,  the  Emperor 
in  a  shooting  jacket ;  they  talked  to  every  one  as 
each  stopped  to  salute  or  curtsey.  The  Empress 
smilingly  inquired  how  I  had  begun  the  day,  whether 
by  visiting  or  eating .?  and  when  I  answered  that  I 
had  preferred  the  latter  exercise,  she  said  :  "  You 
look  too  healthy  and  rational  ever  to  become  a 
starving  poet."  The  Emperor  was  in  high  spirits, 
pointing  at  the  trees,  giving  advice  as  to  the  training 
of  dogs,  and  crossing  the  sward  to  pluck  some  wild 
flowers.  Showing  them  to  me,  he  said  :  "They  are 
not  so  grand  as  your  laurels,  but  very  pretty.  Now 
tell  the  truth,  you  have  been  near  the  river  to  freshen 
up  your  laurels  .-^  "  .  .  .   . 

In  the  afternoon  we  took  a  drive  through  the 
beautiful  dark  forests  that  encircle  Sigmaringen  in  a 
ring  of  sombre  verdure.  There  in  the  soft  silence 
of  the  wood  we  were  startled  to  hear  the  sound  of 
bugles,  and  a  troop  of  horsemen  rode  rapidly  past 
preceding  a  small  group  of  riders.  In  the  midst  of 
the  group  rode  the  Emperor,  clothed  in  the  black 
uniform  of  the  Todthussaren  and  mounted  on  a 
black  charger.  Again  that  set  resolute  expression 
hardened  his  visage,  again  his  eyes  looked  far  into 
the  darkness  of  the  forest  with  an  awe-inspiring 
light  in  their  dilated  pupils.  Like  a  statue  of  stone, 
like  an  image  of  Fate,  he  passed  on  heedless  of  our 
presence,  casting  never  a  glance  on  the  carriages  or 
their  occupants.    Later  on  I  heard  that  the  Emperor 

135  > 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

had  that  very  day  been  much  disturbed  and  angered 
by  news  received  from  Westphalia,  where  great 
strikes  had  broken  out  amonof  the  workmen.  Yet 
when  again  at  five  o'clock  we  took  tea  with  the 
Royalties  in  the  splendid  museum  of  Sigmaringen 
Castle,  to  my  unspeakable  surprise  another  change 
of  dress,  another  change  of  face  and  humour,  was 
presented  by  the  Emperor  for  our  admiration.  On 
both  sides  the  old  hall  was  adorned  with  glass  cases 
containing  marvels  of  ancient  art  gathered  together 
by  the  rare  taste  of  the  late  Prince  of  Hohenzollern. 
William  II.  then  and  there  declared  that  he  wor- 
shipped Albrecht  Durer,  and  showed  in  his  praise  of 
old  vases  and  skilfully  chiselled  silver,  considerable 
proficiency  in  matters  dear  to  antiquaries  and  con- 
noisseurs. No  object,  however  small,  however  dark- 
ened by  the  twilight  of  ages,  escaped  his  shrewd 
scrutiny.  He  was  utterly  different  from  the  Em- 
peror I  had  seen  in  the  morning,  that  imposing  and 
gloomy  black  rider  of  the  forest,  yet  to  an  acute 
observer  the  sternness  of  eye  and  visage  were  still 
there,  glossed  over  for  a  few  moments  only. 

"  I  teased  you  about  those  laurels  this  morning," 
said  he,  as  he  approached  a  corner  where  I  had  come 
upon  a  lovely  Renaissance  cup,  whose  dainty  orna- 
mentation had  captivated  my  attention,  "  By-the- 
bye,  where  is  the  famous  crown  ?  I  am  quite  dis- 
appointed. As  soon  as  I  arrive  people  hasten  to 
inform  me  that  I  will  meet  with  an  extraordinary 
creature — a  young  girl  who  is  noi  a  Queen  and  fioi  a 

136 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

Princess,  yet  wears  a  crown — a  crown  of  laurels,  a 
crown  given  by  the  French  Academy ;  and  when  I 
expect  to  see  a  real  laurel  crown  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  here  is  the  young  person  in  question 
daring  to  show  herself  bare-headed  in  the  evening, 
and  wearing  stupid  bonnets  in  the  daytime  !  Now, 
where  is  that  crown  ?  Do  you  keep  it  hanging  over 
your  bedstead,  or  put  it  out  at  the  window  for 
passers-by  to  admire  ?  " 

"  Sire,  Emperors  and  Kings  wear  their  crowns  on 
great  occasions,  but  not  even  in  the  greatest  moment 
of  their  existence  are  poets  allowed  to  do  so,  or 
your  Majesty  would  have  seen  mine  yesterday  and 
to-day.  Our  crowns  are  invisible — in  fact  they  do  not 
exist  but  in  imagination  ;  thus  the  wealth  and  realms 
which  we  possess  are  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal 
eye. 

"And  you  are  not  exposed  to  the  danger  of  losing 
them  !  "  said  the  Emperor.  "  But  do  you  mean  to 
say  you  are  going  to  remain  a  poet  all  your  life  ? 
Will  not  the  malady  pass  off  like  the  measles  ?  Oh, 
I  don't  joke — to  me  a  woman  who  writes  is  a  being 
who  is  absurd,  ridiculous." 

"  I  have  been  told  before  that  your  Majesty  ab- 
horred clever  women,  or  the  interference  of  women 
in  any  but  domestic  affairs." 

*'Oh,  I  don't  go  such  lengths.  Clever  women 
are  dangerous  women,  one  and  all,  who  ought  to  be 
muzzled  before  they  can  bite,  but  do  you  believe  it 
is  necessary  to   be  a  clever  woman   to  be  a  woman 

137 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

who  writes  ?  On  the  contrary,  women's  cleverness 
consists  in  avoiding  ridicule,  and  clever  women  are 
those  who  care  for  their  good  looks.  Now  can  a 
woman  who  writes  remain  pretty  ?  The  gestures, 
the  attitude  of  a  woman  scrawling  away  with  all  her 
might  must  utterly  rout  every  assthetical  effort  on 
her  part.  Can  a  woman  remain  pretty  when  she  is 
obliged  to  put  on  that  particularly  stern  frown  with 
which  one  pursues  an  idea,  or  studies  any  serious  and 
important  subject  ?  "  The  Emperor  stopped,  evi- 
dently waiting  for  a  confused  or  a  spirited  answer, 
then  he  resumed  :  "  Now,  you  are  very  intelligent, 
much  more  than  I  could  have  believed  a  woman  who 
writes  would  prove.  You  are  actually  as  smiling,  as 
cool,  as  unaffected  as  if  I  had  not  wounded  your 
highest  notions  of  womankind — perhaps  your  own 
self-love." 

"  I  have  no  self-love,  sir,  but  very  firm  convictions 
that  nothing  can  defeat." 

"  Anyhow  you  are  very  good-natured  and  neither 
pretentious  nor  forward.  I  am  going  to  concede 
one  or  two  points  to  you,  though  you  do  not 
seem  to  care  whether  I  consider  womankind  pushing 
or  not.  Music  and  painting  may  render  a  woman's 
existence  very  happy — even  beneficial  to  her  family, 
and — I  will  allow  that  a  woman  is  not  quite  unsexed 
for  being  a  poet.  Women  are  unreasonable,  so  are 
poets  :  women  are  born  to  comfort  and  to  enhance 
the  joy  of  living,  and  so  are  poets.  Well,  a  poet  you 
may  remain  without  exasperating  me  completely  !  " 

138 


THE  GERMAN  EMPEROR 

"  I  thank  your  Majesty  for  his  gracious  permis- 
sion." The  Emperor  laughed,  and  as  the  Empress 
came  to  his  side  he  added  :  "  I  have  been  giving  this 
poor  young  lady  a  bit  of  my  mind  about  femininism 
and  women  who  write  novels." 

*' The  Emperor  is  the  friend  of  poets,  whether 
they  be  men  or  women,"  said  the  gentle  lady,  *'  and 
I  must  give  him  the  Roumanian  ballads  to  read." 

At  dinner  that  day  the  Emperor  proposed  a  toast 
in  honour  of  the  Hohenzollern  family  and  the 
Royalties,  his  cousins  and  peers  assembled  there — 
with  whom,  said  he,  the  Empress  and  himself  had 
been  so  pleased  to  spend  hours  which  they  would 
never  forget.  The  speech,  though  short  and  simple, 
was  eloquent  and  full  of  vigorous  sympathy  ;  flame- 
like it  spread  from  soul  to  soul,  and,  delivered  in  a 
voice  whose  ring  fell  like  metal  on  the  ear,  it  re- 
sounded through  our  hearts,  and  gave  every  one  pre- 
sent the  sensation  that  each  was  in  direct  communion 
with  the  speaker. 

Before  the  Imperial  pair  left  the  Castle,  such 
persons  as  had  been  admitted  to  conversations  of 
any  length  with  them  took  private  leave  of  their 
Majesties.  Thus  I  was  ushered  into  a  little  blue 
drawing-room,  where  the  Emperor  and  Empress 
were  waiting  to  bestow  a  partmg  word. 

"  I  wish  you  good  luck,"  said   William   II.,  "  and 

heaps  of  laurel  crowns — so  many  that  your  hair  and 

brows  may  be  quite  hidden  under  them.     Is  not  that 

a  kind  wish  ? " 

139 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

*'  No,  no,"  corrected  the  Empress,  "  I  wish  you 
happiness  in  whatever  form  you  may  like  to  enjoy  it, 
and  peace." 

I  stooped  low  to  kiss  the  proffered  hands,  and  then 
joined  the  ladies  and  officials  who  were  waiting  in  the 
hall.  Presently  from  every  door  Princes  and  Princesses 
came  pouring  in,  and  the  German  Sovereigns,  who 
had  already  bidden  these  adieu,  glided  simply 
through  the  circle,  bowing  right  and  left.  The 
Heit  die  in  Sieges  Kranz  struck  up,  and  thus  they 
passed  from  our  view. 

Many  a  time  since  then  have  I  met  the  two  Im- 
perial travellers,  many  a  time  at  the  Italian  Court, 
and  many  a  time  had  to  approach  them.  But 
nowhere  as  in  that  straggling  fortress  of  the 
obscure  Middle  Ages  nowhere  as  in  those  woods 
and  gardens,  did  the  real  character  of  William  II. 
reveal  itself  to  my  attentive  eyes.  Nowhere  better 
than  in  the  sombre  forest,  by  the  banks  of  the  young 
Danube,  did  I  learn  to  judge  what  is  strange,  and  to 
admire  what  is  admirable,  in  the  Emperor  of  the 
German  Realm. 


140 


rhoto  iy  I.iitUky,  St.  I\ttr.<.hurg 
THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA  AND  THEIR   FAMILY 


THE    CZAR   AND    CZARINA 

No  three  monarchs  belonging  to  the  same  dynasty 
could  have  differed  more  than  the  Emperors  of  Russia 
who  successively  occupied  the  Muscovite  throne 
during  Queen  Victoria's  long  reign. 

Every  one  knows  what  a  haughty  and  violent 
though  melancholy  ruler  was  the  Czar  Nicholas  I., 
and  how  often  he  repeated  the  famous  words  which 
revealed  his  imperious  temper:  "There  is  but  one 
person  in  Russia,  the  man  to  whom  I  speak,  at  the 
moment  I  am  speaking  to  him."  (//  ny  a  quun 
homme  en  Russie^  celui  auquel  je  parle^  au  moment  ou  je 
lui  park.)  He  was  preceded  on  the  throne  by  his 
brother,  the  dreamy  and  mysterious  Alexander  I.,  the 
irreconcilable  enemy  of  Napoleon,  though  more  than 
one  effort  did  Bonaparte  make  to  win  his  friendship.  • 
Many  strange  and  marvellous  things  are  related  con- 
cerning the  Czar  Alexander  I.  He  possessed  very 
strong  religious  feelings,  and  the  recent  publication 
of  his  correspondence  with  the  famous  Madame  de 
Kruchner  shows  how  vivid  was  the  interest  that  he 
took  in  the  connection  between  the  visible  and  in- 
visible worlds,  and  that  he  put  the  greatest  faith  in 

H3 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE    KNOWN 

the  declarations  of  mediums  as  to  their  communica- 
tion with  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  His  extreme 
piety,  together  with  his  sweet  and  gentle  disposition, 
gave  birth  to  many  legends,  one  of  which  still  remains 
dear  to  the  hearts  of  his  people. 

It  is  a  common  belief  amongst  the  lower  classes 
of  Russia,  especially  the  priests  and  monks,  that  the 
Emperor  Alexander  I.  did  not  die  on  the  day  on 
which  he  is  supposed  to  have  breathed  his  last,  but 
that  an  empty  coffin  was  lowered  into  the  vault  where 
the  remains  of  the  Romanoff  family  repose.  This 
was  done  by  his  own  expressed  wish,  in  which  his 
wife,  the  Empress  Elizabeth,  acquiesced,  and  while 
the  whole  nation  was  praying  for  the  soul  of  the 
departed  potentate,  a  quiet,  plainly-attired  moujik 
stole  away  from  the  crowd  of  courtiers  gathered 
round  the  new  Czar.  Protected  by  the  robe  and 
hood  of  a  wandering  pilgrim,  he  travelled  on  and  on 
until  he  reached  a  solitary  spot  in  the  midst  of  the 
vast  Russian  plain.  There  for  many  years  he  lived 
like  the  anchorites  of  old.  It  was  only  once  a  year 
during  the  Easter  festivities  that  he  made  his 
appearance  in  the  capital,  and  then  he  used  to  go 
straight  to  the  Imperial  Palace.  His  stature  was  so 
erect,  his  bearing  so  dignified  and  noble,  his  look  so 
gentle  yet  so  commanding,  that  no  one  ever  dared 
refuse  him  admittance.  He  would  walk  from  hall 
to  hall,  his  arms  and  feet  bare,  and  his  long  white 
hair  and  beard  sweeping  over  his  neck,  stopping  only 
when  he  reached  the  threshold  of  the  Czar's  private 

•44 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

apartments.     The  chamberlain  who  ushered  him  in 
never    closed    the   folding  doors    behind    the  silent 
visitor  without  waiting  to  observe    that  the  Czar, 
worshipped  like  a  demi-god  by  all,  yet  stooped  low 
when  the  stranger  entered  and  reverently  kissed  his 
shrivelled    hand.     The    hermit    in    time    became  a 
well-known  figure,  but  no  prayers  or  entreaties  could 
ever  detain  him  more  than  one  day  in  St.  Petersburg, 
and  when  at  last  he   died  he  was  buried  there  beside 
his  forefathers  in  the  fortress  chapel.     The  legend*  is 
quite  affirmative  as  regards  the  latter  point,  and  the 
Emperor   Alexander   I.   is   cited  by    the    monks  as 
an  example    to    those    who  live    in    austerity    and 
who  aspire  to  holiness.    This  interpretation  of  Alex- 
ander I.'s  somewhat  sudden  illness  and  death  shows 
that   the  worship  rendered    by  his  subjects  to  the 
Ruler  of  the  Russian   Empire  is  loyal  and  sincere, 
not  only  because  his  realm  is  as  boundless  as  that  of 
any  monarch  of  legend,  and  his  dominions  resemble 
those  of  King  Philip  II.  of  Spain,  upon  which  the 
sun  never  set,  but  simply  from  the  mere  fact  that 
the  reigning  Muscovite  Czar  is  supreme  head  of  the 
Russian  Orthodox  Church.     He  is  the  sole  repre- 
sentative  to  his  subjects  of  God   upon  earth,  en- 
dowed,  as  were    the    Kings   of  France  during   the 
Middle  Ages,  with  the  gift  of  healing  by  his  touch 
and  of  curing  maladies  and  all  distress  by  his  pre- 
sence.    Superstition  has  raised  this  spiritual  power 
to    a   supreme    point,    and    often    when    the    Czar 
drives   through   the   streets   of  Kief   or    Moscow 

H5 


) 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

moujilcs,  women,  and  children  fall  frantically  on 
their  knees  before  the  horses  of  his  state  carriage, 
begging  the  coachman  to  let  the  hoofs  and  wheels 
pass  over  their  bodies,  that  they  may  in  some  way 
enter  into  touch  with  the  "Little  Father"  from 
whom  all  blessings  spring. 

Nicholas  I.  entertained  an  almost  supernatural 
idea  of  his  absolute  power  and  constant  com- 
munion with  the  Almighty.  He  was,  therefore, 
dumfounded  to  find  during  the  Crimean  War  that 
the  Lord  of  Hosts  had  apparently  abandoned  one 
who  was  in  such  close  relationship  to  heaven.  He 
remembered  with  bitterness  how  different  was  the 
fate  of  Russia  during  his  brother's  reign,  when 
victory  was  obtained  against  the  Great  Victor,  the 
French  Emperor,  before  whom  all  Europe  had 
trembled,  yet  whose  glory  was  scattered  like  the 
flakes  of  snow  under  which  his  army  was  buried. 
Then  the  will  of  the  Almighty  had  been  clearly 
manifested ;  Nicholas  1.  marvelled  why  he  should 
now  be  defeated  and  humiliated ;  and,  still  pon- 
dering upon  the  strangeness  of  the  case,  he  died 
soon  after  the  conclusion  of  the  war. 

His  son  and  successor,  Alexander  II,,  was  unlike 
his  father  in  many  respects.  Of  a  sweet,  yielding 
disposition,  he  possessed  none  of  the  self-assurance 
of  his  haughty  and  imperious  father.  His  private 
life  was  not  a  happy  one ;  he  lost  his  eldest  son,  a 
charming  youth,  and  he  heard  the  stifled  murmurings 
of  future  revolutions  rise  around  his  throne.     It  is 

146 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

a  singular  fact  that  it  was  under  the  reign  of  the  first 
Russian  Czar  who  took  a  real  interest  in  the  fate  of 
the  lower  classes,  who  delivered  the  Russian  peasant 
from  servitude,  that  Nihilism  should  have  sprung 
up,  and  he,  the  magnanimous  ruler,  was  almost  its 
first  victim.  Without  having  known  Alexander  I. 
personally, still  I  have  heard  much  about  his  character, 
ideas  and  conversation,  as  he  made  a  long  stay  in  our 
country  on  two  occasions  during  the  Russo-Roumano- 
Turkish  War.  My  own  father  also  had  several 
opportunities  of  approaching  the  Czar  at  Plevna, 
where  our  King,  then  only  Prince  of  Roumania,  was 
acting  as  Commander-in-Chief  to  the  Allied  Armies. 
Much  esteem  and  regret  is  felt  for  his  memory  by 
those  of  my  countrymen  who  met  the  Czar  then  as 
he  travelled  from  village  to  village,  followed  by  an 
innumerable  staff.  An  immense  host  of  servants 
preceded  him,  and  tried  hard  to  make  the  sordid 
Bulgarian  huts,  where  the  Emperor  had  to  pass  the 
night,  as  comfortable  as  possible.  This  produced  a 
strange  and  almost  painful  contrast  between  the 
miserable  poverty  of  the  scene,  the  clay  floor,  the 
mud  walls,  the  roof  so  low  that  it  was  almost  impos- 
sible for  a  tall  man  to  stand  erect  under  it,  the  narrow 
windows  and  look  of  indescribable  wretchedness  that 
hung  over  the  whole  place  ;  and  the  heavy  gold 
plate  upon  which  the  Emperor's  meals  were  served, 
the  gorgeous  livery  of  his  retainers,  the  richly 
embroidered  counterpane  thrown  across  the  narrow 
bedstead — in  a  word,  the  pompous  array  of  splendid 

H7 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

grandeur  by  which  a  Czar  is  ever  surrounded. 
Throughout  the  whole  campaign  people  noted  the 
unusual  expression  of  fatigue  and  sadness  upon  the 
Emperor's  countenance,  though  his  slim,  handsome 
figure  held  itself  erect  as  ever,  and  he  tried  to  smile 
when  called  upon  to  distribute  praise  or  encourage- 
ment, 

"  It  cannot  be  denied,"  said  my  father,  "  that  the 
Emperor  was  kind  and  amiable,  but  what  endeared 
him  to  all  was  his  face,  in  which  an  expression  of 
pathetic  sadness  was  always  struggling  with  pride 
and  fortitude.  He  looked  great  indeed  when  I  rode 
near  him  on  the  morning  of  August  30,  1877.  We 
were  not  three  gunshots  distance  from  Plevna.  It 
was  St.  Alexander's  Day,  so  to  celebrate  the  Czar's 
Feast  Day  a  sudden  attack  on  Grivita — one  of  the 
enemy's  best  defended  fortresses — had  been  planned, 
and  we  expected  that  the  sun  which  rose  in  all  its 
summer  fairness  would  set  upon  scenes  of  bloodshed 
and  victory. 

**  Those  few  moments  after  dawn  the  sight  of  the 

army  was  splendid  to  behold.     As   far  as   the  eye 

could  reach,  swords,  plumes  and  bayonets  glittered 

in  the  dazzling  light  of  an  Oriental  morning.    Flags 

fluttered,  trumpets  sounded,  and  an  air  of  festivity 

pervaded   the  warlike  throng  ;  while  above  us,  black 

against  the  dark  blue  sky,  rose   the   menacing  forms 

of  those  towers  from  which  death  would  fall  upon  us 

in  a  few  hours.     Suddenly  an  intense  silence  fell  upon 

the  multitude,  as   one  by  one  the   Orthodox  priests 

148 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

advanced,  magnificently  attired  in  vestments  of  gold 
and  silver  brocade.  The  Emperor's  own  Chaplain 
took  the  lead,  holding  the  holy  images  of  the  Saints 
high  above  his  head.  At  that  moment  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  field  appeared  the  Emperor, 
followed  by  his  Generals  and  Aides-de-Camp.  He 
rode  into  the  middle  of  the  wide  circle,  while  frantic 
cheers  rose  from  every  side  to  greet  him.  The  priest 
lifted  the  Image  and  the  Cross  to  the  Imperial  lips. 
The  Emperor  stooped  slightly  to  meet  them  and 
then  took  up  his  place  in  the  centre  of  the  group  of 
officers  to  which  I  was  attached.  I  was  only  a  few 
steps  behind  him,  and  could  see  his  every  movement. 
The  divine  service  began  in  the  high,  grave  tones  of 
the  Russian  liturgy,  hymns  of  praise  to  the  Almighty 
which  we  all  repeated  in  our  hearts  in  accents  of 
earnest  entreaty,  and  whose  meaning  took  such  deep 
import  from  the  place  and  the  circumstances  in  which 
they  were  uttered.  The  Emperor  sat  motionless  in 
his  saddle  ;  his  face  was  stern  and  set,  and  he  retained 
during  the  whole  ceremony  the  same  air  of  pride 
and  determination,  but  his  large  soft  eyes  wandered 
along  the  dense  lines  of  the  regiments.  No  doubt 
his  thoughts  ran  in  the  same  channel  as  ours,  no 
doubt  he  was  saying  to  himself,  '  Only  God  knows 
how  many  of  these  brave  fellows  will  be  senseless  or 
plunged  in  agony  before  to-night,'  and  I  noticed 
that  the  hand  which  held  the  rein  trembled  slightly, 
while  the  '  White  Father '  prayed  for  his  Russian 
children  as  well  as  for  their  Roumanian  friends. 

149 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1   HAVE  KNOWN 

"As  the  Emperor  turned  his  charger's  head  to 
leave  the  field  he  cast  another  long,  troubled  look 
over  the  mass  of  uniforms,  horses  and  lances,  and  his 
lips  moved  murmuring  words  whose  import  I  could 
not  catch  as  they  were  in  Russian,  words  perhaps 
of  leave-taking  and  benediction,  and  then,  amid  a 
tempest  of  acclamations,  the  aged  monarch  passed 
from  our  sight.  The  afternoon  of  that  terrible  day 
is  one  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who,  like  my- 
self, deafened  by  the  roar  of  guns,  blinded  by  gun- 
powder, and  drunk  with  the  wild  exaltation  of  the 
moment,  rushed  to  the  assault.  After  losing  our 
best  officers  and  bravest  soldiers,  we  at  length  became 
masters  of  the  place,  but  when,  weary  and  haggard, 
mere  wrecks  of  humanity,  we  tried  to  regain  our 
encampments,  we  had  to  wade  through  a  lake  of 
blood  in  which  corpses  lay  thick  under  the  starlit 
sky.  The  following  morning  the  same  religious 
ceremony  took  place  as  had  been  held  the  previous 
day,  but  how  altered  were  the  countenances,  the 
attitude  of  those  who,  though  victors,  mourned 
the  loss  of  so  many  brothers  and  comrades  !  No  Te 
Deum  was  to  be  sung,  but  a  solemn  mass  in  honour 
of  the  glorious  dead.  Amidst  the  deep  silence  the 
Emperor  made  his  appearance,  a  strange  pallor  over- 
spreading his  fine  features,  while  his  eyes  were  cast 
down  during  the  whole  of  the  divine  service.  I  do 
not  think  I  have  ever  seen  such  fervour  and  ardour 
as  he  displayed  while  the  priests  slowly  chanted   the 

Requiem  and  raised  their  hands  to  heaven.      Almost 

150 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

immediately  after  the  Mass  the  Te  Deum  was  ren- 
dered in  thanksgiving  for  the  possession  of  the 
Grivita  Heights,  whose  conquest  was  really  a  proud 
achievement  for  the  Roumanian  Army.  Again  the 
Emperor  tried  to  force  a  smile,  but  there  was  on  his 
lips  a  shade  of  sadness  which  made  me  in  after  years 
imagine  that  some  strange  presentiment  of  his  own 
tragic  and  untimely  end  must  have  crossed  his  mind 
at  that  moment.  We  learned  to  love  him  well  in 
the  Bulgarian  Plains.   .   .   ." 

Of  the  four  Russian  Emperors  whom  I  find  it 
necessary  to  mention  here,  Alexander  III.  proved 
himself  most  faithful  to  the  dictates  and  sentiments 
of  his  race.  He  was  a  thorough  Muscovite,  the 
father  and  apostle  of  Panslavism.  A  barbarian  in 
many  respects,  he  was  a  true  representative  of  his 
own  predominant  idea  that  Russia  should  rule 
Europe  by  the  strength  of  all  that  is  most  profoundly 
Russian  or  most  truly  adapted  to  the  Russian  spirit. 
He  it  was  who  prescribed  the  almost  exclusive  use 
at  Court  of  the  Russian  language,  which  had  been 
laid  aside  in  favour  of  French  during  the  two  pre- 
ceding reigns.  On  this  point  he  insisted  with 
obdurate  persistency.  He  loved  France  and  England 
well,  better  indeed  than  any  other  nations,  but  he 
loved  them  for  their  own  sake,  and  refused  to  let 
his  empire  be  influenced  by  ideas  and  facts  and  books 
which  did  not  have  their  roots  deep  in  the  Russian 
soil. 

"  I  will  not  hear  any  language  but  my  own  spoken 

151 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

in  my  presence,"  he  said,  '*  so  long  as  there  are  no 
foreigners  in  our  country  to  whom  we  have  to  be 
civil.  Literature  as  well  as  everything  else  will 
benefit  by  the  gratification  of  my  supreme  desire  to 
see  the  upper  classes  in  Russia  resume  studying  the 
language  of  our  forefathers." 

Though  self-willed  and  sometimes  violent  in  the 
development  and  accomplishment  of  his  political 
views,  in  private  Alexander  III.  showed  a  lively  dis- 
position. He  was  a  kind  and  indulgent  husband 
and  father,  and  simply  worshipped  his  frail  and 
delicate  Empress,  the  charming  Princess  Dagmar, 
whom  he  had  received  as  an  inheritance  from  his 
dying  brother,  and  whom  he  prized  as  a  jewel  more 
precious  than  any  in  his  Imperial  crown.  But  at  the 
very  dawn  of  her  beautiful  and  gracious  motherhood 
the  sweet  and  adored  Empress  lost  the  stalwart  com- 
panion of  her  youth — Alexander  III.  went  down  to 
an  early  grave.   .   .   . 

I  would  no  more  think  of  attempting  to  describe 
a  personage,  whether  royal  or  belonging  to  a  less 
exalted  rank,  without  making  mention  of  his  ances- 
tors, his  education,  and  the  atmosphere  in  which  he 
had  developed,  than  I  would  launch  into  the 
endeavour  to  describe  some  landscape  or  monument 
without  mentioning  the  lights  and  shades  by  which 
it  was  surrounded,  and  the  people  who  have  drawn 
comfort  or  distress  from  the  sight  of  it.  In  contrast 
to  what  I  have  related  of  his  forefathers,  the  present 

Emperor  of  Russia  will  stand  out  in  striking  relief. 

152 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

He  is  neither  haughty  and  imperious  like  his  name- 
sake Nicholas  L,  nor  melancholy  and  dreamy 
like  Alexander  II.,  nor  does  he  in  any  way  resemble 
his  father  Alexander  III.,  whose  strong,  wilful  temper 
almost  verged  on  stubbornness,  whose  aspect  was  that 
of  a  giant,  and  whose  timidity  was  only  equalled  by 
his  great  kindness  and  the  almost  violent  grasp 
which  he  laid  upon  an  idea,  never  allowing  it  to 
escape  from  him  till  he  had  carried  it  out  in  its 
entirety.  Nicholas  II.  takes  after  his  Danish  mother, 
and,  as  every  one  knows,  he  is  almost  the  double  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  his  first  cousin.  I  cannot, 
however,  understand  how  people  can  actually  mis- 
take the  one  for  the  other,  since  every  time  I  see  the 
Prince  of  Wales  I  am  struck  by  the  thoroughly 
English  expression  of  his  physiognomy,  while  in  my 
opinion  few  faces  are  more  characteristic  of  the  type 
of  the  clever  young  Russian  student  than  that  of  the 
Czar.  He  has  besides  the  eager  manner  that  belongs 
to  this  particular  type,  though  the  education 
bestowed  upon  him  as  Hereditary  Grand  Duke  has 
done  much  towards  giving  him  the  gravity  and 
dignity  necessary  to  his  high  rank.  The  Czar  was 
still  Czarewitch  when  I  first  saw  him,  and  he  then 
gave  me  such  a  sense  of  youthful  enthusiasm  and 
freshness  of  mind  that  it  is  with  wonder  I  read  now 
in  the  papers  accounts  of  ceremonies  at  which  he  has 
to  preside  with  a  countenance  suitable  to  the  occasion, 
and  I  am  dismayed  to  hear  how  silent  and  grave  he 
showed  himself  during  his  two  visits  to  France.     It 

153  K 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

is  true  I  had  seen  the  Czarewitch  on  an  occasion 
when  he  had  no  official  part  to  play,  but  simply 
showed  a  passing  act  of  courteousness.  On  our  way 
from  one  train  to  another  in  a  German  station,  he 
stopped  to  speak  to  our  Queen,  who  appreciated  his 
delicate  nature  and  fine  intellectual  qualities.  I 
cannot  explain  how  it  was  that  these  two  high  per- 
sonages, both  travelling  incognito^  came  to  meet  in 
the  dingy,  stifling  air  of  this  place,  amid  the  deaf- 
ening whistle  of  panting  steatn-engines,  and  should 
thus  be  led  to  speak  of  literature  and  art,  but  the 
Czarewitch  had  not  been  with  us  two  minutes  before 
he  said : 

"  I  love  travelling  but  only  when  I  can  do  it  in 
my  own  way.  I  never  travel  otherwise  than  at  night, 
and  spend  my  day  visiting  museums  and  quaint  old 
streets,  bazaars  when  I  am  in  the  East,  antiquarian 
shops  when  I  am  in  the  North.  I  am  more  of  an 
Asiatic  than  a  European  in  my  tastes,  and  I  have  not 
only  a  vast  collection  of  Indian  curios  and  quite  an 
army  of  Buddhas  large  and  small,  but  also  a  library 
composed  of  books  treating  of  Indian  subjects  alone, 
and  another  of  books  dealing  with  Egyptian  lore. 
Were  I  not — well,  what  I  am — I  should  be  the 
greatest  bookworm  in  the  world." 

There  was  a  flash  of  enjoyment  in  the  large  grey 
eyes  as  he  mentioned  his  favourite  pursuits,  then  he 
went  on  : 

*'  I  should  like  to  live  half  my  life  completely  in 
Russia,    hear  only   Russian   spoken,   and  see  things 

•54 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

that  are  solely  Russian,  then  spend  the  rest  of  the 
time  in  running  over  the  world  and  bringing  back 
its  treasures  to  my  darling  country."  A  touch  of 
his  father's  patriotism  illumined  the  last  words. 
"  But  then,  one  can  never  realise  all  one's  castles  in 
the  air,  and  duty  is  a  beautiful  thing  simply  because 
it  is  gilded  over  with  the  light  of  personal  sacrifice. 
Besides,  are  we  not  often  most  attached  to  the  desires 
that  we  know  we  can  never  accomplish  ? "  The 
whirl  of  busy  travellers  eddied  around  us  while  I 
gazed  earnestly  into  the  face  of  the  future  Czar,  a 
face  whose  expression  was  intense  yet  dreamy.  A 
very  slight  brown  moustache  softened  the  outline  of 
his  upper  lip.  His  figure,  his  hands,  his  every 
movement,  were  fragile  and  elegant,  reminding  us  of 
those  slim  Marquises  who  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XIV. 
brushed  the  dust  of  the  battlefield  off  the  gilded  lace 
of  their  sleeves,  and  talked  of  bloodshed  and  perils 
as  they  glided  gracefully  through  the  intricacies  of  a 
minuet.  Yet  the  expression  of  the  Czarewitch's 
face  was  marked  with  decision,  and  his  features 
recalled  those  of  the  Muscovite  race.  "  What  a 
pity,"  I  thought,  as  I  gazed  upon  his  form  and  lis- 
tened to  his  witty  conversation,  "  what  a  pity  that 
one  day  this  clever  and  buoyant  personality  must 
be  chained  to  a  throne  !  .  .  .  But  how  proudly  he 
will  wear  a  crown  !  "  was  my  next  reflection  as  the 
light  of  patriotism  dawned  in  his  eyes  and  played 
round  his  features  —  the  gaze  with  which  his 
ancestors  looked  down  upon  the  kneeling  millions 

155 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

from  the  heights   of  palaces    or    the    threshold    of 
altars. 

But  the  Emperor  who  is  an  enthusiast  as  regards 
Asiatic  religions  and  Asiatic  art,  who  loves  Indian 
splendour  and  the  glow  of  dying  Byzantium,  is  also 
the  most  European  of  all  the  three  Emperors,  his 
predecessors.  He  does  not  strive  to  exclude  modern 
ideas  from  his  Empire,  and  is,  indeed,  very  liberal- 
minded,  a  quality  he  has  acquired  during  his  numer- 
ous voyages  and  intimate  intercourse  with  his  English 
cousins.  His  marriage  with  a  Princess  belonging  to 
an  enlightened  family  has  increased  these  tendencies. 

The  same  year  that  I  encountered  the  Czarewitch 
my  good  fortune  brought  me  in  momentary  contact 
with  the  beautiful  Princess  who  was  to  be  his  spouse. 
We  were  staying  at  Wiesbaden  with  our  Queen,  and 
one  rainy  afternoon  her  Majesty  had  decided  to  call 
upon  Bach  and  Beethoven  in  place  of  regretting  the 
absent  sunshine.  Strict  orders  were,  therefore,  given 
that  no  one  was  to  be  admitted  but  the  persons 
belonging  to  the  Queen's  most  intimate  circle.  We 
were  gathered  round  the  piano  listening  to  the  great 
master's  inspiration  with  rapt  attention  when  a  slight 
sound  at  the  door  caused  me  to  rise  and  inquire  into 
the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  The  Queen's  footman 
stood  there  with  a  troubled  expression  on  his  face. 
"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  there  are  two 
ladies  downstairs ;  they  wish  to  see  the  Oueen  im- 
mediately.  I  told  them  it  was  impossible  for  them 
to  do  so,  but  they  insist." 

156 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

"  The  Queen  does  not  receive  without  being  asked 
for  the  favour  of  an  audience." 

"  I  told  them  so,  ma'am,  but  they  are  so  deter- 
mined. They  are  very  pretty,  they  must  be 
actresses.   .   .   ." 

*'  Great  ladies,  perhaps,  Princesses  .....?"  I 
put  in. 

"  No,  no,  ma  am,  actresses,  of  course.  They  are 
pretty  and  so  simply  dressed.  Besides,"  and  he 
drew  himself  up  with  dignity,  "  /  know  all  the 
Royal  Highnesses  in  the  world." 

I  could  not  then  stop  to  interrogate  him,  but 
since  then  I  have  often  wanted  to  know  why  the 
man  who  knew  all  the  Royal  Highnesses  of  the 
world  should  have  decided  that  beauty  and  good  taste 
in  dress  were  the  exclusive  privileges  of  actresses ! 

"  Will  you  go  and  tell  them  that  you  have  spoken 
to  me  and  that  I  am  very  sorry  but  that  her 
Majesty  is  not  in  the  habit  of  receiving  in  the 
afternoon.     And  ask  them  to  tell  you  their  names." 

"  I  will  go,  ma'am,  but  all  I  say  is  of  no  use. 
There  they  have  been  in  front  of  the  hotel  for  the 
last  twenty  minutes.     They  will  not  go  !  " 

By  this  time  my  curiosity  was  aroused  and  I 
decided  to  go  down  myself  and  have  a  peep  at  the 
pretty  actresses.  Opposite  the  front  door  was  a 
landau  in  which  were  two  ladies  clad  in  mourning 
dresses  of  thick  serge,  who  leaned  forward  as  they 
perceived  me.  They  seemed  both  very  young  and 
very  pretty  indeed.     The  fairer  of  the  two  said  in 

iS7 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

sweet,  low,  trembling  tones,  '*  We  are  due  to  leave 
by  the  six  o'clock  train,  so  please  let  the  Queen 
know  I  must  see  her  immediately."  There  was  an 
authoritative  ring  in  her  gentle  voice. 

"  But,  madame,  it  is  impossible.  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  can  never  have  approached  a  Queen  before, 
to  think  that  you  can  thus  be  admitted  into  her 
Majesty's  presence  without  any  notice  !  " 

'■'■  The  Queen  will  be  delighted  to  see  me,"  and 
the  unknown  looked  full  into  my  eyes  with  a  mis- 
chievous and  alluring  smile,  while  the  dimples  played 
in  her  rosy  cheeks  and  her  childish  blue  eyes  were 
alive  with  fun,  I  began  to  feel  rather  uncomfort- 
able but  went  on  expostulating  though  feebly. 
Both  ladies  alighted,  and  I  was  returning  in  all  haste 
to  relate  the  adventure  to  the  Queen  when,  before  1 
had  time  to  cross  the  threshold,  the  charming 
stranger  had  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"  You  see,"  she  said,  "  I  know  who  you  are,  I 
even  know  your  several  nicknames,  and  yet  you 
cannot  guess  who  I  am.  How  amusing  !  "  With 
these  words  she  tripped  gently  into  the  room,  and  I 
heard  the  glad  exclamation  with  which  our  Queen 
greeted  her.  "  Dear,  dear  Irene,  dear  child — and 
unannounced,  how  nice,  how  awfully  nice  of  you  ! 
Come  in,  Helene,  I  must  introduce  you  to  the  Prin- 
cess Henry  of  Prussia,  a  young  matron  who  is  not 
at  all  fond  of  her  husband.  .  .  ." 

"  Your  Queen  is  such  a  tease,"  said  the  Princess, 
blushing.     *'  Only   think,   once   she   insisted   that  I 

158 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

wanted  to  enrol  myself  as  a  lady  sailor,  and  gather 
a  fleet  of  ladies  to  follow  our  husbands  when  they 
go  on  long  voyages  !  I  must  admit  that  I  am  very 
unhappy  when  the  Prince  is  away.  Without  him 
everything  is  altered,  life  is  so  grey,  so  slow.  But  I 
must  tell  you,  Elizabeth,  this  young  girl  wanted  to 
send  me  away  in  a  most  disgraceful  manner." 

"  And  the  footman  mistook  her  Royal  Highness 
for  an  actress  because  she  was  so  pretty  ;  he  thought 
she  could  not  be  anything  else,"  I  rejoined.  The 
Princess  laughed,  and  I  left  her  and  the  Queen  in 
close  conversation  while  I  entered  the  small  parlour 
where  my  sister  had  already  struck  up  such  a  close 
friendship  with  the  dame  d'honneur  that  I  felt  sure 
she  must  be  very  amiable  and  clever.  I  always 
judge  a  princess  by  her  lady-in-waiting,  and  this  time 
I  was  about  to  crown  the  high  opinion  I  had  formed 
of  the  Princess  Irene  of  Prussia  by  praising  her  choice 
of  her  dames  d^honneur  when  I  discovered  that  the 
lady  in  question  belonged  to  the  Court  of  Darm- 
stadt and  was  the  constant  companion  of  Princess 
Alice  of  Hesse. 

"  Do  come  to  Darmstadt,"  said  she.  "  The 
Princess  will  be  delighted  if  you  will  spend  a  few 
days  with  her.  She  is  very  remarkable,  our  young 
Princess,  so  serious  and  sincere,  so  quiet  and  cor- 
rect in  her  appreciations  of  people.  She  has  no 
taste  for  futilities,  and  dress,  balls,  even  sport  do 
not  appeal  to  her  much.  She  prefers  her  books, 
the  study  of  her  own  soul,  and  the  philosophy  of 

»S9 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

human  life.  She  is  proud,  not  of  her  birth,  her 
rank,  or  her  beauty  as  you  might  suppose,  but  of 
the  great  effort  she  daily  makes  towards  the  de- 
velopment of  the  better  side  of  her  instincts  and 
talents,  I  wish  you  could  see  her  and  hear  her  con- 
verse. At  first  she  seems  cold  and  reserved,  but  by- 
and-by  when  she  begins  to  feel  in  sympathy  with 
her  interlocutor  her  shyness  and  silence  disappear. 
Then  she  speaks  out  on  any  subject  she  happens 
to  choose.  She  has  fairy  hands  and  her  needlework 
is  extraordinary.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  she  will 
have  a  brilliant  future  and  an  existence  full  of 
splendid  toil."  And  the  charming  lady  went  on  to 
relate  scenes  from  the  quiet  and  serious  Court  life  of 
Darmstadt  till  our  one  hope,  our  one  desire,  was  to 
visit  her  there.  When  she  left  with  the  Princess 
we  were  quite  excited  over  the  subject  till  the 
Queen  said : 

"  But,  you  stupid  children,  we  are  leaving  for 
Roumania  in  two  days." 

Our  countenances  fell.  "  Without  seeing  Prin- 
cess Alice  and  the  incomparable  dame  (Thonneur  ?  " 

"  See  them  again,"  said  the  Queen,  "  why,  you 
shall  do  so  this  very  day.  Put  on  your  bonnets. 
We  will  accompany  the  Princess  to  the  station." 

The  train  was  already  in  when  we  reached  the 
platform,  and  my  heart  beat  fast  for  fear  we  had 
missed  the  Princess.  We  were  about  to  retrace  our 
steps  when  Princess  Christian  of  Schleswig-Holstein 
came  to  my  rescue  by  saying  to  the  Queen,  "  They 

1 60 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

have  not  left  yet.  The  train  is  due  to  stop  twelve 
minutes  longer,  and  I  suppose  that  it  will  stop  as  long 
as  we  like.  There — Alix,  Victoria  and  Irene  are  in 
the  carriages.  I  will  tell  them  of  your  presence,  and 
they  will  alight."  Kind  Princess  Christian  went  to 
her  nieces  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  all  alighted 
from  the  carriage,  declaring  how  surprised  and 
delighted  they  were  to  see  the  Queen.  A  very  tall, 
slim  girl  stood  shyly  behind  the  Princess  Irene  and, 
though  the  stately  Princess  Victoria  of  Battenberg 
towered  high  above  her,  there  was  a  touch  of  gran- 
deur and  dignity  in  her  slender  form  which  I  had 
never  seen  before  in  one  so  young.  She  wore  a 
broad-brimmed  black  hat  from  which  hung  a  long 
feather  of  the  same  sable  colour.  The  soft  colour 
of  her  chestnut  hair  cast  a  radiance  over  her  pure 
white  brow  and  her  haughty  grey  eyes  glittered  like 
the  snow  under  a  moonlit  sky.  The  contours  of  her 
cheeks,  her  chin  and  profile,  were  harmonious  while 
her  lips  firmly  set  spoke  of  a  strong  will  though 
there  was  gentleness  also  in  their  curves. 

"  I  must  introduce  my  sister  Alix  to  you,"  said 
Princess  Irene,  and  the  proud  beauty  stepped  forward 
and  with  a  graceful  movement  stooped  to  kiss  the 
Queen's  hand  which,  however,  the  Queen  suddenly 
drew  back.  This  gesture  of  graceful  homage  to  one 
whose  rank  and  years  alike  made  her  venerable  was 
accomplished  by  the  Princess  Alix  without  abating  a 
jot  of  her  cold  and  imperious  demeanour  and  no 
additional  colour  rose  to  her  faintly  tinged  face.    The 

i6i 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

dame  d'honneur  who  was  now  at  her  elbow  pointed 
to  us,  and  with  a  kindliness  which  changed  her  whole 
countenance,  giving  it  a  childish  expression  of  eager- 
ness, the  Princess  turned  to  us  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"  You  will  be  able  to  manage  this  visit  to  Darm- 
stadt, won't  you  ?  From  what  my  lady-in-waiting 
says  I  am  sure  you  would  love  our  Court  and  that  I 
shall  love  you.  Do  come.  We  have  such  fine  forests 
all  around.  I  hear  you  love  music  and  poetry  and 
recitations.  We  might  get  up  theatricals,  though 
for  my  own  taste  I  prefer  a  poem  read  aloud,  and 
read  well,  to  the  theatre.  Poetry  calms  the  soul  and 
makes  it  strong.  I  am  sorry  we  are  leaving  so 
soon  .  .  ." 

"  And  we  are  leaving,  too,  madam." 

"  For  Roumania  '^.  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  glad  to  return  to  your 
country  ?  " 

*'  Not  this  time,  for  we  should  have  liked  to  go  to 
Darmstadt  so  much.  And  we  know  your  Royal 
Highness  would  be  such  a  pleasant,  gay  companion." 

"  I  am  afraid  this  lady  has  been  exaggerating  as 
she  always  does  when  she  speaks  about  me.  Of 
course,  I  am  gay  sometimes,  and  sometimes  I  can  be 
pleasant,  I  suppose,  but  I  am  rather  a  contemplative, 
serious  being,  one  who  looks  into  the  depths  of  all 
water,  whether  it  be  clear  or  dark."  The  expression 
of  majesty   and  repose    returned   to    the   beautiful 

162 


THE  CZAR  AND  CZARINA 

countenance  and  reminded  me  again  of  snow-lit 
mountains  where  sunshine  and  shade  dwell  by  turns. 
"  Alix,  take  leave  of  the  Queen  and  the  ladies  now. 
It  is  high  time  to  do  so."  The  words  were  spoken 
by  the  Princess  Victoria  of  Battenberg  and  her 
motherly  glance  dwelt  fondly  on  the  lovely  face  of 
her  young  sister.  The  Princesses  entered  the  railway 
carriage  one  by  one,  but  Princess  Alix  remained  in 
the  corridor  waving  her  handkerchief  till  she  was 
out  of  sight  and  the  last  I  saw  of  her  as  a  Princess 
was  that  figure  of  proud  loveliness  carried  away  into 
the  glorious  future,  into  the  haze  of  grandeur  and 
happiness  where  she  would  still  remain  the  cold  and 
beautiful  lady  who  loves  all  that  is  pure  and  grave. 


163 


Photo  /•}'  Bfog-i,  /•'lorciue 
MARGIILRII  A    \)\   SAVOIA,   1X)WAGER  QUEEN   OF  ITALY 


MARGHERITA  DI  SAVOIA, 
DOWAGER    QUEEN    OF    ITALY 

After  letting  our  eyes  steep  themselves  in  the  pure 
abundant  light  that  bathes  the  Seven  Hills,  with  soul 
weary  from  their  long  dwelling  on  Rome's  historic 
past,  and  dazzled  by  the  splendour  of  these  ancient 
glories  which  to-day  lend  a  meaning  to  every  step 
the  clear-eyed  traveller  takes  in  Rome,  we  return 
slowly  to  modern  life,  and  our  carriage  finds  its 
place  amongst  the  many  vehicles  wending  their  way 
towards  the  Villa  Borghese  or  the  Villa  Pamphili. 

A  sudden  motion  in  the  crowd  announces  an  event 
of  such  importance  that,  tired  and  dazed  as  we  may 
be,  we  rouse  ourselves  and  look  with  eager  eye  to 
discover  the  cause  of  the  commotion.  Windows  fly 
open  on  every  side,  handkerchiefs  are  waved,  the 
faces  of  the  passers-by  assume  an  expression  of 
mmgled  satisfaction  and  devotion,  while  in  vehement 
tones  the  passionate  Italian  words  ring  out :  "  La 
benedetta  Regina — la  nostra  Margherita — II  nostro 
poi" — "The  blessed  Queen — Our  own  Margaret — 
Our  own  flower."     And  on  the  high  seat  of  an  im- 

167 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

mense  landau  we  see  the  gracious  lady  whose  august 
yet  familiar  name  resounds  above  the  uproar.  Four 
lackeys,  in  livery  red  as  the  embers  of  a  winter  fire, 
tower  above  the  fair  head,  which  moves  in  unceasing 
salutation,  while  a  smile  flickers  like  a  flame  upon 
the  parted  lips.  Her  complexion  is  so  pale  and 
clear  that  every  vein  may  be  traced  on  the  temples 
and  firm  rounded  cheeks,  while  the  aquiline  nose 
gives  a  touch  of  pride  to  the  sweet  features.  The 
high  landau  advances,  and  the  Queen  continues  to 
bow  right  and  left  with  the  same  charming  air  of 
concern,  while  the  smile  flickers  and  varies  but  is 
never  extinguished  for  a  second.  Yet  while  thus 
occupied  with  the  passers-by,  and  occasionally  lifting 
her  eyes  to  the  windows,  the  Queen  does  not  cease 
to  talk  to  the  lady  who  is  her  neighbour  or  the 
gentleman-in-waiting  seated  in  front  of  her.  From 
what  ancestress,  from  what  tradition  slumbering  in 
her  blood,  has  Oueen  Margherita  learnt  the  science 
of  a  smile  so  subtle,  so  pure,  so  lavishingly  spent .? — 
a  smile  at  the  same  time  fascinating  and  haughty, 
careful  to  betray  royal  serenity,  yet  anxious  to  hold 
the  popular  favour,  a  jewel  which  the  lowest  and 
most  obscure  might  find  on  the  road  to  daily  labour, 
as  welcome  as  bread  or  flowers. 

In  passing  from  the  Rome  of  bygone  centuries 
to  the  Rome  of  to-day,  a  vision  seems  thus  to  send 
our  thoughts  back  to  the  glory  celebrated  by  chronicler 
and  poet.  No  personage  is  more  eloquent  in  favour 
of  the  strenuous  efforts  by  which  Italy  has  gained 

i68 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

her  unity  and  freedom  than  the  niece  and  daughter- 
in-law  of  the  great  King  Victor  Emmanuel.  Except 
Queen  Victoria,  no  queen  of  the  nineteenth  century 
could  boast  like  Margherita  of  embodying  in  her  one 
personality  the  fate  of  her  people  at  once  with  the 
fate  of  her  dynasty,  since  she  was  twice  a  Savoia 
and  twice  an  Italian  Princess  before  becoming  Queen 
of  Italy.  She  is  the  only  one  amongst^Royal  Consorts 
who  has  had  no  need  to  search  for  a  throne  in 
another  country  than  her  own  ;  she  alone  can  speak 
to  her  subjects  in  the  language  of  her  childhood,  and 
she  treasures  in  her  heart  all  the  faults  and  qualities 
of  their  race.  She  alone  has  given  them  a  King  of 
pure  native  descent.  In  his  splendid  "  History  of 
France "  Michelet  says :  "  A  king's  children  must 
always,  according  to  the  nature  of  royal  marriages, 
be  as  strangers  in  the  land."  From  this  imputation, 
at  least,  the  King  of  Italy  is  exempt. 

Every  one  knows  how  beautiful  the  life  of  Queen 
Margherita  has  been  and  how  warmly  she  is  beloved 
in  every  corner  of  her  country.  In  the  smallest 
Piedmontese  village,  as  in  the  gorgeous  towns  of 
Southern  Italy,  every  contaddina  calls  her  "  Our  own 
Margherita,"  while  the  highest  circles  of  society 
declare  their  King's  mother  to  be  accomplished  in 
every  art :  to  those  who  have  never  known  her  this 
sentiment  may  indeed  seem  akin  to  infatuation,  since 
it  pervades  every  class  and  finds  not  a  contradictory 
echo  to  mar  its  sincerity.  I  do  not  seek  here  to 
relate  the    numerous   anecdotes  told  about    her,  to 

169 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

describe  her  daily  occupations,  nor  to  trace  her 
biography.  My  chief  aim  in  these  pages  is  to  render 
my  impressions  of  kings  and  queens  whom  I  have 
met  and  talked  with,  to  describe  as  clearly  as  possible 
their  characteristics,  the  very  essence  of  their  souls 
such  as  they  were  revealed  to  me  on  frequent  occasions 
when  the  august  personages  with  whom  I  was  brought 
into  close  contact  displayed  before  the  eyes  of  a 
writer  and  poet  sentiments  they  believed  they  were 
expressing  in  the  presence  of  a  mere  woman  of  the 
world. 

During  the  few  months  I  spent  in  Rome — where 
my  parents  had  passed  part  of  the  summer  and 
autumn  before  my  arrival,  my  father  at  that  time 
representing  his  country  at  the  Italian  Court — my 
mother  and  he  often  spoke  in  fervent  admiration  of 
Queen  Margherita  and  King  Humbert,  whom  they 
frequently  visited.  But  the  terrible  grief,  the  dire 
misfortune  which  had  brought  me  to  our  temporary 
home  in  the  fold  of  the  Seven  Hills,  held  my  mind 
aloof  from  every  distraction  but  my  own  trouble. 
Not  all  the  glamour  of  the  divine  city,  or  the  severe 
beauty  o'erspreading  its  famous  agra  romana  ;  not  the 
gentle  light  that  descended  from  a  sky  fair  as  the 
bosom  of  a  summer  sea,  nor  the  grandeur  of  the 
historic  pa/azzi ;  not  the  beautiful  twilights  floating 
over  the  Palatine  and  the  Janicule  ;  not  even  the 
keen  interest  abroad  in  Rome  in  watching  the  struggle 
between  spiritual  and  temporal  powers,  could  suc- 
ceed to  divert  me  from  my  sorrow,  or  draw  me  out 

170 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

of  the  abyss  of  tears  into  which  I  sank  deeper  every 
hour.  The  image  of  Queen  Margherita  dwelt  in  my 
mind  only  among  the  many  images  of  beauty  whose 
power  was  incapable  of  soothing  my  distress.  Vainly 
when  we  met  her  in  the  streets  would  my  mother 
say : 

"There  is  the  Queen — do  look  at  her.  See  how 
she  smiles ;  she  has  often  spoken  so  nicely  of  you  to 
me.  .  .  .  She  receives  us  in  a  low  dress  always — it 
is  the  habit  at  this  Court  to  receive  foreign  ambas- 
sadors in  full  dress.  In  many  ways  it  is  a  very 
simple  Court,  but  on  the  other  hand  its  etiquette  is 
rather  complicated.  .  .  .  The  Prince  of  Naples  has 
told  his  mother  a  great  deal  about  his  visit  to 
Roumania  and  about  you.  .  .  .  Mother  and  son  are 
so  fond  of  each  other.  When  he  is  away  he  writes 
to  her  every  day  and  even  twice  a  day  sometimes. 
Do  look  at  her." 

But  I  scarcely  raised  my  eyes  and  remained  in  my 
attitude  of  depression  and  indifference  as  the  car- 
riage passed  our  own,  though  the  royal  smile  more 
than  once  alighted  on  my  face,  the  vivid  blue  eyes 
searching  deep  into  mine,  I  felt  that  the  Queen 
knew  and  desired  to  show  me  more  than  a  passing 
moment's  interest,  but  the  sight  of  the  pompous 
emblems  of  her  rank,  even  her  compassionate  glance, 
thrilled  me  with  a  sentiment  of  pain  and  stirred  all 
the  bitter  pangs  of  memory  in  my  soul.  But  Queen 
Margherita's  kindness  and  Queen  Margherita's  will 
are  not  easily  thwarted.     In   the  early  autumn  my 

171  L 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE   KNOWN 

mother  had  a  long  audience  from  the  Queen.  I 
thought  that  after  this  merely  ceremonious  interview 
my  mother  would  return  from  the  Quirinal  delighted 
of  course,  but  with  no  new  experience,  and  that  the 
burning  subject  of  myself  would  have  been  carefully 
avoided  by  both.  But  my  knowledge  of  the  ways  of 
the  Italian  Court  was  completely  at  fault. 

"  The  Queen  understands  you  so  well,"  said  my 
mother,  "  and  she  pities  you  so  much.  Without 
making  any  open  allusion  to  the  cause  of  your 
trouble,  she  spoke  of  it — beginning  the  conversation 
first,  of  course,  as  I  should  never  have  dreamt  of  her 
expressing  sympathy  in  a  case  which  so  directly 
touches  the  laws  and  traditions  of  monarchy.  These 
I  do  not  think  she  would  ever  sacrifice.  She  is  a 
Queen  from  head  to  foot,  but  she  realises  the 
extent  of  your  sufferings  ;  she  says  you  are  to  her  a 
pathetic  sight  as  she  meets  you  in  her  daily  drives 
and  sees  you  always  in  the  same  state  of  depression. 
She  seems  to  see  everything." 

A  few  days  after  my  mother's  audience  a  lady 
belonging  to  the  diplomatic  circle  came  to  me  and 
said : 

"  Listen,  dear  child.  Queen  Margherita  would 
very  much  like  to  see  you — but  a  queen  cannot 
invite  people  before  they  ask  leave  to  present  their 
homage  to  her.  You  required  a  hint,  did  you  not .? 
Well,  I  have  come  to  suggest  this  :  write  to  the 
Marchesa  di  Villamarina  and  beg  the  favour  of  an 
audience.     The  Queen  will  receive  you  immediately. 

172 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

I  speak  almost  as  if  I  were  entrusted  with  an  official 
message.  Believe  me  I  do  not  speak  lightly. 
Write.' 

Here  the  Queen's  tact  and  delicacy  had  discovered 
a  means  of  accomplishing  her  will  without  allowing 
her  dignity  to  suffer,  so  it  was  without  a  moment's 
hesitation  that  I  wrote  to  the  Marchesa  di  Villa- 
marina,  the  Queen's  dearest  friend  and  a  lady  worthy 
of  the  affection  and  confidence  bestowed  upon  her  by 
her  royal  mistress. 

The  very  next  day  we  were,  my  mother  and  I, 
invited  to  call  upon  the  Queen  at  two  o'clock  p.m. 
This  was  a  somewhat  hasty  summons,  and  at  a  less 
conventional  time  than  usual.  Awake  to  the  emo- 
tions of  the  hour,  I  considered  the  situation  and 
tried  with  some  dismay  to  guess  what  the  Queen 
would  say ;  I  had  been  told  that  she  was  very  fond 
of  asking  questions.  In  what  light  did  she  regard 
me  and  my  thwarted  fate  ?  What  could  the  Queen 
— who  was  twice  a  Queen  by  right  of  birth  and  right 
of  marriage,  and  who  always  laid  such  stress  on  the 
right  of  Royal  blood — find  to  say  to  one  who  might 
have  been  a  Queen  without  possessing  any  of  those 
rights .? 

These  thoughts  and  many  of  the  same  kind  rapidly 
crossed  my  brain  as  we  saw  the  huge  statues  of  Castor 
and  Pollux  flash  past  us  as  we  drove  through  the 
large  court  of  the  Palace,  environed  on  every  side  by 
its  huge  yellow  buildings  with  a  single  beam  of  sun- 
shine lying  along  the  greystones  like  a  road  of  watery 

173 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

light.  In  the  hall  a  line  of  tall  soldiers  with  glis- 
tening swords  and  helmets  gave  us  the  salute,  and 
we  mounted  the  soft  staircase  whose  steps  were  so 
low  and  easy  under  our  feet  that  we  scarcely  felt  the 
ascent.  In  the  large,  wood-panelled  antechamber 
were  some  ten  or  twelve  lackeys  clad  in  the  same 
flame-coloured  livery  that  we  see  on  the  Royal 
equipages  in  Rome  and  London.  A  short  exchange 
of  polite  remarks  took  place  with  one  of  the  princi- 
pessa  romana,  who  that  day  was  the  lady-in-waiting, 
and  who  kindly  endeavoured  to  attract  my  attention 
to  the  valuable  paintings  collected  in  the  blue 
drawing-room  into  which  we  were  ushered.  Then 
the  Marchesa  di  Villamarina  makes  her  appearance. 
This  was  the  sign  of  a  favour  precious  indeed,  as  the 
Marchesa  is  very  busy  and  rarely  receives  the  Queen's 
visitors,  yet  it  was  the  Marchesa  herself  who 
beckoned  to  us  and  showed  us  the  open  door  leading 
to  the  Royal  apartment. 

A  vision  of  white  and  gold  dazzled  my  sight  as 
if  we  had  suddenly  come  upon  a  landscape  of  sunlit 
snow,  and  the  Queen's  white  dress  and  the  Queen's 
fair  hair  seemed  to  throw  all  around  a  radiance  of 
white  and  gold.  In  her  hand  she  held  a  book  which 
was  slowly  dropped  on  a  stool,  and  while  she  signed 
my  mother  towards  a  low  armchair,  she  drew  me  to 
her  and  placed  me  on  the  sofa  by  her  side.  Then, 
with  a  graceful  yet  determined  movement,  she 
swerved  backwards  to  the  other  end  of  the  sofa,  and, 
still  holding  my  hand,  said : 

»74 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

"  I  want  to  look  at  you  well.  I  have  had  so  many 
pictures  of  you  but  not  one  is  like.  There  is  nothing 
like  Nature  after  all — nothing  like  the  living  impres- 
sion we  receive  from  the  living  individuality." 

Her  neck  and  fingers  were  heavy  with  pearls  and 
diamonds,  and  the  flash  of  coloured  gems  trembled 
in  her  hair  and  descended  over  her  brow  ;  in  the  folds 
of  her  garments  and  around  her  the  Latin  Queen 
displayed  richness  worthy  of  a  Byzantine  Empress. 
The  snowy  whiteness  of  the  sunlit  chamber,  the  silk 
and    velvet    embroidered   with    golden  flowers    and 
silvery  tracings,  all  the  glistening  splendour  of  her 
surroundings,  revealed  how  highly  the  Queen  placed 
the  demands  and  glory  of  her  rank  and  its  attributes. 
Yet  the  contrast  was  singularly  refreshing  between 
so  much  pomp  and  the  pleasant  familiar  voice  that 
murmured  on,  swinging  from  one  subject  to  another 
like  a  bird  between  the  branches  of  a  forest ;  viva- 
cious and  inquisitive,   yet   tinged  with  a  variety  of 
information  and  personal  experience  which  showed 
plainly  her  leisure  hours  have  not  been  given  up  to 
dreaming.     Indeed,  Queen  Margherita's  conversation 
is   so  attractive  and  full  of  point  that  it   could  be 
compared  to  the  verses  of  those  poets  whose  lyrics 
take  to  sudden  flight  among  the  stars,  then  all  at 
once  alight  gaily  upon  the  ground,  and  speak  again 
of  earthly  matters  with  the  same  liquid  language  em- 
ployed in  their  intercourse  with  the  stars. 

With     marvellous     ability     Queen     Margherita 
avoided  entering  into  the  cause  of  my  grief,  yet  not 

^7S 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

for  a  moment  did  she  cease  to  talk  of  the  sorrow  for 
which  she  had  seen  tears  upon  my  face. 

"  You  should  not,  oh,  you  should  not  be  so 
depressed.  You  are  young  and  you  are  a  poet.  I 
love  your  writings,  and  so  do  all  who  read  them. 
Then,  is  there  anything  more  enchanting  to  a  woman, 
or  more  soothing  to  her  soul,  than  to  hear  these 
words  murmured  as  she  passes  :  '  She  is  a  poet '  ^ 
Do  not  think,  though,  that  I  am  addressing  myself 
to  your  feminine  vanity.  I  speak  to  your  reason,  to 
your  soul,  to  your  sense  of  duty.  How  often  I  have 
vainly  wished  to  be  a  poet  myself !  When  in  the 
blue  mists  of  an  autumn  morning  I  follow  the  steep 
mountain  paths  I  love,  something  in  me  sings  a 
hymn  of  beauty  and  gratitude  I  am  doomed  never  to 
utter  in  words.  .  .  .  You  love  Venice .'' "  she  con- 
tinued. "  Venice  must  make  every  one  feel  a  poet : 
what,  then,  must  a  real  poet  feel  in  Venice  ^  1  fol- 
lowed all  your  movements  while  you  were  staying  in 
Venice  with  your  dear  Queen.  It  is  such  a  pity  I 
could  not  come  to  you  at  that  time.  Venice  is  lovely, 
is  it  not .''" 

"  Yes,  madam,  it  is  the  city  of  joy." 

*'  The  city  of  joy — and  you  say  so,  you  who  have 
suffered  and  mourned  in  Venice  ?  Why,  there  is  a 
breath  of  unutterable  sadness  in  the  breeze  among 
the  lagoons,  in  the  gentle  murmur  of  the  oars  as  they 
touch  the  stone  staircases  at  night.  You  have  not 
seen  Venice  with  the  eyes  of  Lord  Byron." 

*' No,  madam,   but  with  the  eyes  of  Titian,  with 

T76 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

the  eyes  of  the  sun,  who  seems  himself  astomshed  at 
the  gorgeous  beauty  which  he  awakens  on  the  bosom 
of  the  waters  before  he  sinks  below  them.  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  a  mellow  tune  of  laughter  and  joy  glided 
over  the  lagoons  between  the  high  palaces.   .   .   ." 

"  Yes,  Titian,  Veronese,  the  sunshine  of  Venice — 
they  are  elements  of  joy  indeed  !  And  Tintoretto — 
I  worship  Tintoretto,  the  glorious  giant.  The  Giant's 
Staircase  should  be  called  so  because  of  him.  There 
are  so  many  admirable  descriptions  of  Venice,  such 
a  vast  number  of  them,  it  seems  as  if  the  city  shed 
the  same  glamour  over  all  who  attempt  to  describe  it ; 
but  almost  best  of  all  others  I  love  Pierre  Loti's 
rendering  of  Venetian  spells,  Venetian  charms.  I 
read  his  pages  over  and  over  again  when  he  speaks 
of  Venice — he  thrills  me  as  keenly  as  Chateaubriand." 
Then  she  began  to  speak  of  our  Roumanian  Queen- 
"  Oh,  your  Queen — how  I  love  and  admire  her  !  I 
saw  her  often  this  autumn  in  Pallanza.  Some- 
times I  would  go  to  pay  her  a  visit  quite  early  while 
she  was  still  in  bed,  and  thus  spent  with  her  moments 
so  delicious  that  I  will  never  forget  them.  She  is 
extraordinary.  Her  sufferings  have  not  altered  the 
sweetness  of  her  nature.  You  don't  know  Pallanza, 
where  she  stays,  do  you }  It  is  a  charming  little 
place,  and  she  seems  to  like  it  very  much.  Shall  I 
describe  it  to  you  '^.  Look — here  is  the  lake,  and  a 
long  row  of  hotels  are  on  this  side."  And  Queen 
Margherita,  with  hands  busily  engaged  in  tracing 
the  lines  of  the  distant  Italian  landscape,  succeeded 

177 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

in  making  every  detail  of  the  small  town  live  before 
our  eyes,  while  her  words  made  such  vivid  comments 
on  her  gestures  that  I  could  imagine  the  bright  colours 
of  the  water  and  the  trees,  the  soft  splash  of  the 
oars,  and  the  chime  of  the  bells  at  evening  as  they 
echoed  over  the  sunlit  lake  from  village  to  village. 
Thus  also  I  imagined  her  arrival  on  those  autumn 
mornings  whose  softness  bathes  the  Italian  lakes  in 
rich  and  mellow  hues.  In  fancy  I  could  see  the  fair 
Queen's  barge  approach  the  blue  shore,  and  the  breeze 
playing  with  her  hair  and  veil ;  the  crowds  assembled 
in  spite  of  the  early  hour,  and  their  hearty  greetings  ; 
and  how  she  would  enter  Carmen  Sylva's  bedroom 
where  the  shadows  of  night  still  lingered,  and  how, 
dazzled  by  the  light  from  within,  she  would  at  first 
scarcely  distinguish  the  form  of  her  royal  sister. 
And  I  could  almost  follow  the  thoughts  exchanged 
between  these  two  in  the  course  of  a  tete-a-tete  which 
personages  of  their  rank  seldom  enjoy,  and  the  gay 
peals  of  laughter  which  would  resound  through  the 
dim  chamber. 

"  How  gracefully,  how  majestically  your  Queen 
walks  !  Although  she  has  now  a  little  difficulty  in 
moving  fast,  there  is  a  cadence  and  suppleness  in  her 
every  step.  Yet  she  is  not  very  strong ;  she  says 
she  feels  as  if  her  feet  were  in  fetters  or  bound  to 
the  ground,  and  that  she  has  a  good  deal  of  trouble 
in  lifting  them  up.  But  her  body  is  as  straight  as  the 
flame  of  a  torch.  .   .  ." 

We    rose  to  take  our  leave.     *'  You   will   come 

17S 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

back  to  see  me,  won't  you  ?  Now  that  you  are  in 
Rome  I  cannot  content  myself  with  the  pleasure  of 
only  reading  your  works.  Do  come  again.  .  .  .  Ah  ! 
I  had  almost  forgotten  the  most  important  part  of 
my  duty,  which  I  ought  to  have  gone  through  at  the 
very  beginning  of  our  conversation."  And  in  a 
voice  which  she  tried  to  make  ceremonious  and  cold, 
the  Queen  said  :  *'  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  your  stay 
here,  and  be  pleased  with  every  one  and  everything 
in  Italy.  .  .  .  Do  come  again,"  she  said,  resuming 
her  natural  tones.  *'  You  see,  I  often  forget  the 
teachings  of  etiquette,  but  really  I  am  sure  your  visit 
to  me  has  done  you  good.  There  is  such  a  glow  on 
your  cheeks,  and  quite  a  light  in  your  eyes — I  am  an 
excellent  doctor.     Come  again  ;  come  soon." 

Notwithstanding  these  gracious  injunctions,  I 
spent  many  months  without  expressing  a  wish  to 
return  to  the  Quirinal,  though  the  memory  of  the 
Queen's  charm  and  her  sympathetic  kindness  dwelt 
with  me,  and  had  indeed  created  a  powerful  diversion 
in  my  life.  Members  of  my  family  had  at  that  time 
the  honour  of  approaching  her  Majesty  very  often, 
and  on  such  occasions  she  never  failed  to  inquire 
after  me.  I  may  say  that  scarcely  a  week  passed 
without  my  receiving  from  the  august  lady  such 
tokens  of  interest  as  go  straight  to  the  heart.  When 
we  made  up  our  minds  to  leave  Rome,  as  my  father 
desired  to  return  to  our  Roumanian  home,  the  pros- 
pect of  our  departure  was  terrible  to  me  in  every  way. 
I  loved  Rome  with  that  passionate  love  which  makes 

179 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

us  cling  to  places  where  we  have  tasted  pain  or  hope 
most  keenly;  besides,  '*the  city  of  the  soul"  had 
wrought  its  spells  upon  my  mind,  and  I  felt  at  my 
ease  amongst  its  beauties  and  all  the  sadness  of  its 
palaces  and  stones.  Added  to  the  other  pangs  of 
separation,  sorrow  at  leaving  Queen  Margherita's 
neighbourhood,  having  to  sacrifice  the  daily  consola- 
tion of  her  smile  and  the  soothing  influence  of  her 
presence,  weighed  me  down  completely.  Besides, 
every  one  had  shown  me  great  kindness,  in  the  highest 
society  as  well  as  in  the  humbler  classes,  and  into  the 
solitude  and  silence  of  my  life  such  sympathy  had 
come  that  the  idea  of  bidding  farewell  to  the  places 
and  beings  amongst  whom  my  grief  had  found  con- 
solation, proved  a  terrible  trial.  And  I  had  to  say 
farewell  to  the  Queen.  In  my  farewell  to  the  idol 
of  the  nation  all  other  farewells  would  be  com- 
prised. 

The  Queen  knew  we  had  asked  for  this  audience 
in  order  to  take  leave  of  her.     She  smiled  sadly. 

"  So  you  are  going  .?  Oh  how  I  pity  you.  No 
one  who  is  able  to  understand  Rome  can  depart  from 
this  glorious  city  without  bitter  regret.  Every  cloud 
in  our  skies,  every  blade  of  grass  under  our  feet  has 
a  significance  of  its  own.  I  pity  you.  Must  you 
really  go  ? " 
•      "  Alas,  madam,  yes." 

I  had  never  seen  Queen  Margherita  look  so 
beautiful  as  that  day.  Her  eyes  really  were  of  the 
violet   hue  of  Mediterranean  gulfs,   and    her  violet 

180 


THE  DOWAGER  QUEEN  OF  ITALY 

dress  besprinkled  with  golden  flowers  fell  around 
her  like  the  shades  of  a  Roman  twilight  on  its 
gardens  and  terraces. 

"  I  have  come  to  your  Majesty  just  before  our 
departure.  I  have  craved  the  honour  of  this  inter- 
view not  only  from  a  desire  to  thank  the  Queen  for 
her  sympathy  and  graciousness,  but  to  thank  the 
Italian  nation  and  all  the  people  of  this  land.  I 
want  to  thank  them  in  the  person  of  the  lady  whom 
the  nation  adores.  Your  Majesty  is  the  symbol,  the 
idol  of  the  land,  and  at  her  feet  will  I  lay  my  thanks. 
Every  one  has  been  so  good,  so  attentive  to  me — to 
the  stranger  who  came  bearing  with  her  a  world  of 
sorrow  and  despair." 

*'Yes,  I  know,  I  am  certain  that  every  one  has 
been  kind  to  you,  but  this  I  pray  you  to  remember," 
and  the  Queen  proudly  raised  her  head,  while  the 
diamonds  in  her  hair  shone  so  brightly  that  the 
aureola  of  several  crowns  seemed  to  encircle  it ;  "  this 
I  beg  of  you  to  remember — Italy  has  not  been  kind 
to  you  through  mere  kindness.  Italy  is  still  the  land 
of  chivalry  and  romance.  You  are  a  woman  and  a 
poet,  and  you  are  unfortunate,  abandoned  and  weak. 
To  become  a  heroine  in  our  country  nothing  more 
is  required  than  the  wounds  inflicted  by  Fate  or  love. 
Had  you  come  to  us  in  prosperity  you  would  not 
perhaps  have  been  received  thus,  and  might  not  have 
been  able  to  understand  all  the  generosity  of  this 
nation.  But  when  this  happens,  when  you  are  happy 
again — and  you   will  be  happy — return  to    Rome 

i8i 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

and   let  Rome  see  you  smile  as  Rome  has  seen  your 
tears." 

"The  King — how  can  we  prove  our  devotion  and 
gratitude  to  the  King  ?  Can  we  ever  forget  his  con- 
cern and  his  goodness  !  " 

'*  Oh  the  King,  he  is  the  most  chivalrous  among 
them  all  !  I  will  repeat  to  him  all  you  have  said 
about  Italy  and  himself,  and  he  will  be  delighted, 
but  more  pleased  because  of  Italy  than  on  his  own 
account." 

The  room  where  white  and  gold  gleamed  like 
sunlit  snow  was  now  bathed  by  the  last  rays  of  a  dying 
autumn  afternoon.  The  windows  were  open,  and  in 
the  silvery  haze  of  the  coming  twilight  the  whole 
city  lay ;  like  a  fortress  St.  Peter's  dome  stood  high 
above  all  the  other  church  spires,  and  I  thought  of 
its  spiritual  import,  and  said  in  my  heart  that  in  the 
Palace,  too,  a  spiritual  force  was  dwelling,  pure  as 
the  pure  robes  of  the  aged  Pope.  That  the  Queen 
who  so  proudly  proclaimed  her  joy  in  being  the  wife 
of  a  chivalrous  King  in  a  chivalrous  land  should 
one  day  weep  in  the  horror  of  a  tragic  hour,  and 
see  him  meet  a  doom  of  violence,  nothing  then 
seemed  to  foresay.  Peace  was  in  her  and  all  around 
her  when  she  smiled  her  farewell  to  us  in  that  sunny 
chamber  on  the  heights  of  the  Quirinal  hill. 


182 


L 

r 

^^P^3L              ^^*Tr^^^^^^K^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^                                         '  ^4^^^H 

* 
'S 

i 

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I 

1 

i 

KING    VICTOR   EMMANUEL   III. 
AND    QUEEN    HELENA 

It  is  singular  to  note  that  although  all  the  encomiums 
usually  bestowed  upon  Princes  have  been  accorded  to 
the  present  King  of  Italy,  and  although  his  reign  is 
already  three  years  old,  very  little  is  known  about 
his  real  personality.  Anecdotes  and  descriptions  have 
endeavoured  to  make  of  him  a  familiar  figure,  but 
in  vain.  There  is  a  lurking  vein  of  mystery  about 
his  personality  which  extends  even  to  his  exterior 
aspect.  He  converses  very  little  with  strangers,  and 
his  political  entourage  cannot  boast  of  obtaining  from 
him  many  definite  pronouncements  which  might  give 
a  precise  idea  of  his  opinions  and  tastes.  In  Italy 
more  particularly,  complete  ignorance  prevails 
regarding  the  temperament  and  aspirations  of  the 
young  King.  Ability  is  the  one  thing  every  one 
allows  him  to  possess  ;  and  from  Rome  to  Palermo, 
from  Milan  to  Naples,  public  report  agrees  in 
depicting  him  a  perfect  soldier,  as  well  able  to  com- 
mand as  he  formerly  was  to  obey.  But  the  special 
quality  which  has  endeared  the  House  of  Savoy  to 

185 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  Italian  people,  the  quality  which  the  nation  pre- 
fers to  all  other  characteristics  of  that  ancient  race, 
seems  somewhat  wanting  in  the  King,  though  he  is 
intelligent,  far-sighted,  brave,  and  worthy  in  most 
respects  of  his  glorious  descent. 

In  every  spot  where  the  noble  House  of  Savoy 
has  left  traces  of  its  brilliancy  and  heroism,  in  cities 
both   of  Italy  and   France,  pictures  are  to  be  found 
which  portray  Knights,  Earls  and  Dukes  belonging 
to  this  race,  which  boasts  a  lineage  more  ancient  and 
more   glorious  than  even  that  of  the   Hapsbourgs. 
The  Savoy  Princes   appear   to  have  been  especially 
careful  in  bequeathing  to  future  centuries  the  present- 
ment of  their  countenances  and  their  garb — the  latter 
intended   to  adorn  a   Court   pageant   or   dazzle  the 
troops   in    the   gay  sunlight  of  a  battlefield ;  while 
their    Princesses    look   down    upon    us  in  haughty 
disdain,  or   smiling   complacency  from  the  walls   of 
innumerable   museums  and   palaces.     Beneath  these 
portraits  inscriptions  tell  us  that  the  beautiful  dame 
represented  was  a  Queen  by  marriage,  or   perchance 
the  mother  of  a  King.     Thus  Francis  I.,  one  of  the 
most  valorous  and  most  popular  rulers  of  France, 
was  the  son  of   a    Savoyard   Princess,  the   famous 
Duchess  Louise  of  Angouleme,  who  for  years  lived 
in  fear  that  her  beloved  son  might  miss  the  throne, 
should  a  child  be  born  to  the  old  King  of  France, 
Louis  XII.,  he   having,  after   the   death  of  his  first 
wife,  married    Mary  Tudor,   sister  to   Henry  VIII. 
Another    Princess    of    this    race    was    the    young 

i86 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

Duchess  of  Burgundy,  who  came  to  Versailles  before 
she  was  ten  years  of  age  to  marry  Louis  XIV. 's 
grandson,  and  whose  sad  history  has  been  told  at 
length  by  one  of  the  most  famous  French  historians. 
Yet  no  historical  sketch,  no  legend  relating  the  past 
splendour  and  valiant  deeds  of  this  chivalrous  and 
gallant  dynasty,  can  in  any  way  compare  with  the 
accounts  given  of  them  by  the  present  King  of  Italy 
himself  when  he  takes  up  the  subject  casually  in 
conversation.  He  possesses,  in  addition,  a  wonder- 
fully accurate  knowledge  of  the  individual  character 
of  each  personage  among  his  ancestors.  Their  great 
deeds,  their  perilous  adventures  and  misfortunes, 
their  triumphs  and  glory,  are  made  to  live  again  as 
soon  as  in  his  own  feverish  manner  he  takes  up  the 
tale  and  begins  to  wax  eloquent. 

During  my  extensive  travels  I  have  come  across 
many  documents  and  pictures  connected  with  the 
House  of  Savoy — "la  casa  di  Savoia  "  as  it  is  called 
in  Italy — and  many  a  time  has  my  heart  been  stirred 
while  poring  over  dusty  folios  or  wandering  through 
long  galleries,  where  paintings  endowed  with  the 
eternal  youth  of  art  hang  on  each  side  like  a  phantom 
army.  Yet  two  vivid  impressions  remain  in  my  mind 
which,  while  I  live,  will  shed  a  splendid  lustre  over 
the  simple  word  "  Savoy  "  in  my  thoughts.  The  first 
was  the  occasion  when  I  heard  Victor  Emmanuel 
III.  recall  to  memory  one  after  another  the  warriors 
and     princes     to    whom    he    owes    his    illustrious 

blood.     The  second  impression  is  a  very  recent  one. 

187 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

It  came  to  me  in  one  of  my  rambles  through  the 
archaeological  treasures  of  France.  I  had  gone  to 
see  one  of  the  many  gems  of  architecture  raised  by 
piety  in  that  fair  land,  and  while  I  wandered  through 
the  church,  white  and  luminous  as  the  cathedrals 
of  Italy  where  a  feeling  for  pagan  beauty  has  not 
been  obliterated  by  the  thrill  of  adoration  and  awe 
so  impressive  in  Gothic  aisles,  the  living  language 
of  the  eloquent  Prince  seemed  to  mingle  with  the 
silence  that  enshrouded  the  snowy  tombs,  and  in  my 
imagination  the  Royal  words  seemed  allied  to  what 
the  silence  said. 

On  the  stained-glass  window  knelt  a  Duke  of 
Savoy,  so  deep  in  prayer  that  he  had  let  his  gauntlet 
fall  on  a  cushion  by  his  side,  and  did  not  even  see 
behind  him  the  form  of  his  patron  saint  listening 
to  the  deathless  orisons.  For  centuries  the  hand- 
some young  Duke  has  prayed  on  in  that  church, 
little  witting  that  the  territory  on  which  it  stands 
has  passed  away  from  his  line,  oblivious  to  everything 
save  his  devotions.  Not  far  from  the  altar  is  the 
place  where  his  dust  is  laid.  Never  more  will  he 
take  up  his  gauntlet  again,  nor  cover  his  fair  curls 
with  the  heavy  helmet  clasped  to  his  breast,  yet  still 
he  prays  on. 

In  that  church  the  tombs  all  round  speak  more  of 
love  than  of  death.  Gazing  on  the  sculptured  master- 
pieces whose  outlines  seem  to  melt  into  the  silvery 
twilight,  we  forget  that  the  Princess  who   built  the 

shrine,  the  dreamer  whose  vision  is  here  pictured  in 

i8S 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

stone  and  coloured  glass,  was  a  powerful,  strong- 
souled  woman,  daughter  of  a  German  Caesar,  aunt 
to  Charles  V.,  and  Governor  of  the  Netherlands. 
Hers  was  no  life  of  prayer  and  solitude,  but  an  ever 
active  existence,  bent  on  political  power  and  deep 
designs.  More  than  once,  we  are  told,  she  armed 
herself  and  rode  on  horseback  to  make  or  unmake 
treaties  and  alliances — a  woman  alike  feared  and 
honoured  in  Council  and  among  the  nations  under 
her  sway. 

In  the  convent  Church  of  Urm  it  is  her  love-story 
that  alone  appears — a  romance  to  thrill  the  poet  and 
the  traveller.  To  these  Margherita  di  Savoia,  wife 
of  Philibert  the  Handsome,  is  a  truly  pathetic  figure. 
Betrothed  to  the  young  French  Dauphin,  who  sent 
her  back  to  her  father  because  he  wished  to  marry 
the  wealthy  Duchess  of  Brittany,  she  afterwards 
became  the  widow  of  King  Juan  of  Castille.  Fate 
seemed  to  pour  its  bounties  at  her  feet  when  she 
espoused  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  settled  with  him  in 
the  wealthiest  part  of  his  rich  dukedom,  but  ill  for- 
tune again  intervened,  for  the  beloved  husband  died 
after  two  years  of  happiness.  Despair  took  pos- 
session of  her,  and  in  memory  of  the  man  she  loved 
the  proud,  sorrowing  Princess  built  the  church  where 
the  royal  lovers  now  rest  side  by  side.  She  caused 
the  image  of  her  dead  husband  to  be  carved  and 
painted  three  times,  and  her  love  has  prevailed  over 
the  waves  of  time  and  discord,  so  that  to-day  the 
gem  of  art  stands   erect  and  beautiful  shining  from 

189  M 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

amongst   the  trees   to   tell   its  tale   of    fidelity   and 
immortal  affection. 

It  is  in  the  handsome  features  of  Duke  Philibert, 
thrice  repeated  in  stone  and  glass,  that  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  race  of  Savoy  may  be  best  seen  and 
traced  to  their  source.  The  languor  yet  extreme 
manliness  of  the  features,  the  firmness  of  the  strong 
hands  closed  over  the  helmet,  the  look  that  the 
Prince  lifts  to  the  holy  Cross  before  which  he  is 
kneeling — all  bear  testimony  to  the  vigour,  the 
ardour  and  the  piety  bequeathed  by  the  dynasty  to 
its  descendants.  Between  the  fervent  spirit  of  the 
kneeling  Duke  and  the  soul  of  the  present  King  of 
Italy,  how  many  different  personalities  have  inter- 
vened, what  powerful  hereditary  tendencies  have 
been  mingled  in  his  blood  by  unions  with  almost 
every  royal  house  in  Europe!  His  fathers  have  been 
allied  with  the  families  of  Austria  and  Bourbon,  and 
with  the  families  of  Italian  Princes  of  races  now 
extinct,  yet  a  near  parentage  survives  which  links 
him  to  the  figure  of  that  silent  worshipper  in  the 
church  at  Urm,  as  well  as  to  the  heroes  whose  deeds 
have  graced  the  records  of  the  Casa  di  Savoia.  Any 
one  who  has  the  honour  of  approaching  Queen 
Margherita's  son  may  easily  trace  in  him  such 
remains  of  mediaeval  feeling  mingled  with  modern 
ideas  as  may  serve  to  render  him  interesting  to  those 
who  look  to  find  in  the  living  the  relics  of  the  long 
dead  past. 

Victor  Emmanuel  III.  may  be  called  the  child  of 

190 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

joy  and  happy  expectation.  Born  at  a  moment  when 
every  heart  was  bent  upon  the  triumph  of  Italian 
Unity,  he  acquired  from  both  his  father  and  mother 
the  blood  of  the  same  glorious  ancestors,  for  Queen 
Margherita  and  King  Humbert  were  first  cousins. 
Naples,  that  city  where  joy  raises  her  altars  under 
the  fairest  sky  that  poets  can  sing,  the  beautiful  city 
crowned  with  flowers  and  over-shadowed  by  her 
graceful  volcano — Naples  gave  him  her  name. 
When  the  twenty-second  boom  of  the  cannon 
announced  that  Margherita,  then  Crown  Princess  of 
Italy,  had  given  birth  to  a  son,  the  population  of  the 
sunlit  town  went  wild  with  exultation.  Men  greeted 
each  other  in  the  streets  with  "  Italia  ha  un  Re " 
(Italy  has  a  King),  and  the  shouts  reached  the  Palace 
of  Castelamai  standing  high  above  the  gulf,  where 
the  proud  young  mother  caught  the  happy  strain, 
while  the  father,  looking  out  from  the  marble  bal- 
conies over  the  glistening  waters,  smiled  and  blessed 
the  glorious  day.  Thus  Victor  Emmanuel  was 
pledged  to  a  brilliant  future.  "  We  do  not  want 
our  King  to  be  an  artist  or  a  warrior.  We  simply 
require  him  to  be  intelligent,  good,  and  a  true 
Italian,"  said  the  people.  King  Humbert's  goodness 
was  well  known  and  he  proved  himself  an  Italian  to 
the  last,  even  on  that  fatal  eve  when  he  refused  to 
listen  to  the  prayers  of  the  Queen  when  she  begged 
him  not  to  tire  himself  by  presiding  at  the  meeting 
on  returning  from  which  he  met  his  death. 

That  Victor  Emmanuel  is  as  kind,  as  thoroughly 

191 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Italian  in  heart,  word  and  manners  as  his  father  was, 
many  of  his  subjects  seemed  to  doubt  at  the  opening 
of  his  reign,  since  the  Prince  had  always  been  very 
guarded  in  his  speech  and  ways,  and  no  one  appeared 
to  know  much  about  him.  Although  rumour  had 
reached  our  Court  of  the  interesting  and  excellent 
education  he  had  received,  it  was  with  great  indiffer- 
ence that  we  looked  forward  to  his  visit  to  Bucharest. 
We  were  accustomed  to  derive  but  little  benefit  from 
the  presence  and  conversation  of  Royal  visitors.  We 
remembered  the  many  Imperial  and  Royal  High- 
nesses we  had  met  in  Roumania  and  abroad,  who 
had  favoured  us  only  with  such  languid  questions 
concerning  our  health,  &c.,  as  clearly  proved  their 
possession  of  an  unvarying  vocabulary  whose  mono- 
tonous phrases  they  distributed  by  the  way,  beginning 
afresh  whenever  they  found  themselves  in  presence 
of  new  acquaintances. 

I  must  allow  that  I  have  seen  many  Court  ladies 
and  gentlemen  gratified  and  delighted  with  the 
crumbs  thrown  to  them  by  the  supercilious  politeness 
of  royalty,  but  to  this  standard  of  Court  perfection 
I  have  never  been  able  to  attain.  I  have  always 
entertained  a  profound  reverence  for  monarchy  and 
its  representatives,  for  the  Right  Divine  of  the  being 
graced  by  God  and  the  nation  with  a  crown,  as  for 
every  member  of  their  families  ;  but  these  sentiments 
of  loyalty  and  traditional  respect  have  been  shaken 
when  the  scanty  courtesy  of  a  stiff  German  Hochheit 
or    obscure    Durchlaut   has  affected    my  instinctive 

192 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

feeling  that  the  duty  to  show  not  only  politeness, 
but  interest  and  sympathy,  towards  all  with  whom 
they  come  in  contact  should  be  numbered  amongst 
the  dearest  attributes  of  royalty.  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  how  often  I  must  have  astonished  those  haughty 
Princes  and  Princesses  who  scarcely  deign  to  move 
lips  or  eyelids  when  addressing  their  inferiors  in  rank, 
by  casting  on  them  such  looks  of  amused  irony  or 
surprise  that  I  received  in  exchange  glances  which 
clearly  said,  "  Impertinent  little  thing !  "  I  must, 
however,  be  sincere  and  add  that  it  is  only  the  minor 
potentates  who  indulge  in  the  pleasure  of  leaving 
behind  them  a  row  of  courtiers  thunderstruck  at  the 
honour  they  have  received  of  listening  to  these  low, 
drawling  tones. 

The  Prince  of  Naples  had  not  been  an  hour  the 
guest  of  our  King  before  all  apprehension  as  to  his 
amiability  and  sympathy  was  stilled.  He  displayed 
such  conversational  powers  as  are  rarely  found  not 
alone  among  his  equals,  but  even  among  those  be- 
neath him  whose  professional  task  it  is  to  be  eloquent. 
On  every  subject  he  seemed  well-informed.  In  order 
to  give  her  son  the  benefit  of  a  thorough  training  in 
Court  etiquette,  Queen  Margherita  had  devised  the 
plan  of  setting  up  a  circle  of  empty  chairs  in  a  large 
drawing-room.  Upon  each  of  these  was  inscribed 
the  name  and  title  of  some  personage  belonging  to 
the  Church  or  State.  She  would  then  make  her  son, 
at  that  time  only  nine  years  of  age,  converse  with  the 
empty  seats,  bearing  labels  with  names  such  as  "  Arch- 

193 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

bishop  of  Milan,"  "  Minister  of  Justice,"  '*  General 
G.,"  *'The  French  Ambassador,"  Sec.  In  this 
manner  the  child  quickly  learned  the  different  ways 
in  which  he  ought  to  address  the  absent  officials  and 
ladies  without  allowing  conversation  to  slacken  or 
drop  for  a  moment.  But  beyond  this,  his  erudition 
in  all  that  regards  historical  and  military  matters  is 
really  remarkable,  while  to  describe  fully  his  tastes 
and  instincts  we  should  have  to  recall  some  of  the 
rulers  among  his  ancestors,  those  ancient  Dukes  who, 
together  with  the  ordinary  accomplishments  of 
Princes,  had  the  gift  of  sagacity  bestowed  upon  them 
from  their  cradles. 

The  years  which  to  many  are  numbered  among 
the  happiest  of  life,  those  of  early  childhood,  were 
spent  by  the  Prince  of  Naples  in  labour  and  study 
so  severe  that  had  not  his  mother  soothed  the  toil 
of  those  early  days  with  her  gentleness  and  affection, 
he  might  have  become  hardened  by  excess  of  study 
and  reflection  and  turned  into  a  solitary  bookworm. 
Fortunately  he  loved  sport,  and  notwithstanding  the 
efforts  he  had  to  make  to  obtain  from  his  weak  body 
a  perfect  obedience  to  his  commands,  all  his  impulses 
urged  him  to  action  and  violent  exercise.  He  loved 
to  follow  his  Alpine  soldiers  along  steep  paths  of 
mountain  and  glen,  or  to  run  beside  the  bersaglieri 
regiments  at  the  wild  pace  which  makes  them  so 
fascinating  to  behold.  It  is  almost  incredible  that  a 
Prince  who  boasts  that  he  desires  nothing  better 
upon  earth   than   days  spent  among  his   troops  in 

194 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

glade  or  forest,  should  be  at  the  same  time  the 
keen  observer  whose  chief  pleasure  it  is  to  study 
every  one  he  meets,  and  to  whom  no  creature  upon 
earth  has  ever  appeared  indifferent  or  uninteresting. 
It  is  this  keen  scrutiny  of  his  fellow  men  which 
prevents  the  Prince  from  putting  forward  his  own 
opinions  at  the  beginnings  of  acquaintance,  because 
he  is  so  much  occupied  with  the  minds  and  feelings 
of  others. 

Although  he  adores  riding  good  horses,  running 
races,  and  marching  alongside  of  his  soldiers  as  much 
as  he  dotes  on  historical  lore,  he  has  escaped  the 
double  peril  of  becoming  a  mere  trooper  on  the  one 
hand  or  a  gloomy  scholar — what  the  French  call  a 
rat  de  bibliotheque — on  the  other.  Either  alternative 
might  have  ruled  in  his  case,  as  his  tutors  have 
had  to  deal  with  a  character  passionately  attracted 
towards  certain  ideas  and  habits.  Unlike  many 
Princes  who,  lacking  both  energy  and  intelligence, 
yet  try  to  imitate  the  life  of  great  soldiers  or  to 
rival  learned  men,  the  present  King  of  Italy  would 
have  made  a  brilliant  warrior  or  an  accomplished 
historian  had  not  the  balance  been  ably  kept  between 
his  tastes  and  his  abilities. 

But  we  must  return  to  the  first  impression  created 
by  his  presence  in  Bucharest,  an  impression  after- 
wards completed  at  Rome  where  I  had  frequent 
opportunities  of  seeing  him.  It  was  with  almost 
a  shudder  of  apprehension  we  had  learned  that  the 
heir  of  the  Italian  throne  was  to  spend  three  or  four 

195 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

days  at  our  Court,  and  on  glancing  over  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  entertainments  prepared  for  him  we 
discovered  that,  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  was  in 
deep  mourning,  he  had  expressed  a  desire  that  hardly 
any  official  receptions  should  take  place.  There 
were  therefore  to  be  no  gala  representations,  no 
races,  no  balls.  We  noted  that  he  would  pass  the 
afternoons  in  the  company  of  the  Queen  in  her 
Majesty's  music  room  or  study,  where  most  of  our 
time  was  spent. 

When  the  Prince  of  Naples  on  the  day  of  arrival, 
after  a  visit  to  the  barracks  and  a  drive  in  the 
Chauss^e  or  public  garden  of  Bucharest,  entered  the 
precincts  sacred  to  the  arts  and  poetry,  he  threw 
around  him  a  sharp  glance  of  inquiry.  His  gaze 
took  in  at  once  pictures,  furniture  and  individuals, 
and  seemed  to  penetrate  into  the  remotest  corners 
of  our  minds,  tearing  off  the  veil  that  hides  thought 
and  sentiments.  The  eyes,  keen  and  interrogating, 
travelled  from  one  face  to  another  noting  each  detail 
of  gesture  or  smile,  yet  controlled  by  a  strict  polite- 
ness and  quickly  averted  if  he  noticed  the  slightest 
uneasiness  on  the  part  of  the  person  who  was  the 
object  of  his  scrutiny. 

"  This  will  not  be  a  tedious  week,"  I  said  to 
myself,  as  the  Prince  went  on  bowing  and  looking 
round  him  with  all  his  attention  given  to  this 
silent  observation.  Then,  all  at  once,  noting  a 
smile  of  amusement  on  the  Queen's  face,  he  said : 

"  Your  Majesty  must  find  me  very  singular  and 

196 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

almost  rude.  I  must  first  take  in  impressions  of 
faces  and  landscapes  before  I  can  enjoy  the  simple 
natural  pleasures  of  conversation,  of  grasping  at 
people's  thoughts  through  their  words.  I  must  first 
handle  my  impressions  a  little  before  I  allow  them 
to  take  hold  upon  me  and  throw  a  haze  of  illusion 
over  my  imagination.  The  first  thing  I  do  on 
arriving  in  a  foreign  country  is  to  look  about  and 
reflect  and  write  down  my  reflections,  so  that 
gradually  by  accumulating  facts  in  my  mind  and 
diary  I  am  becoming  a  sort  of  dictionary.  I  have 
an  excellent  memory  in  which  I  am  sure  you  would 
find  almost  every  person,  every  place  I  have  seen, 
each  in  its  proper  position,  in  good  order  and  array, 
bearing  a  clear  notification  of  its  value  and  beauty." 

"  And  this  is  an  amusement  to  you  ?  "  asked  the 
Queen. 

"  Scarcely  an  amusement.  It  is  an  absolute 
necessity  to  me.  I  could  not  do  without  it,  even  if 
I  wished  to.  I  have  already  noted  many  remark- 
able traits  in  your  Roumanian  peasants  on  my  way 
from  the  frontier.  What  has  struck  me  much 
more  than  their  costume  is  the  way  in  which  they 
hold  their  heads.  .  .  .  Yes,  they  bear  their  heads 
high,  a  thing  unusual  among  people  who  stoop  all 
day  long  over  agricultural  work.  But  this  has  a 
peculiar  significance  with  them.  It  shows  that  they 
belong  to  a  nation  long  oppressed  yet  full  of 
courage,  whose  favourite  gesture  for  generations  has 

been  to  lift  the  head  while  thinking  of  the  oppressor. 

197 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

interrupting  the  daily  toil  with  such  reflections  as 
'  We  shall  one  day  be  a  free  people.  We  shall  be 
delivered  from  tyranny  and  suffering.'  And  the 
women,  how  calm  and  dignified  they  are !  They 
remind  me  of  Samaritans  gathered  round  the  well  of 
an  evening."  Then  turning  abruptly  towards  me, 
he  said  :  "  Why  do  you  go  on  writing  ?  .  .  .  I  have 
been  watching  you  for  the  last  ten  minutes.  Your 
pen  flies  on  as  if  there  were  nothing  more  important 
to  do  than  to  write  just  at  this  moment,  when  I  am 
here.  .  .   ." 

I  felt  completely  taken  aback.  .  .  .  "Sire,  this 
must  leave  by  the  five  o'clock  mail.  Her  Majesty 
has  given  me  permission  to  write  in  her  room  when 
I  am  in  a  great  hurry.  I  have  been  writing,  but  I 
have  listened  with  great  interest  to  every  word  of 
your  Royal  Highness's  conversation." 

"  Things  done  by  halves  never  succeed ;  you  cannot 
have  listened  with  real  attention,  or  if  you  have, 
your  work  must  have  been  badly  done.  Now  tell  me, 
have  you  travelled  much  ^  Do  you  know  J  was 
trying  to  find  out  where  you  have  been  educated, 
while  I  spoke  to  you  as  you  were  introduced.  .  .  . 
Thus  far  I  am  sure  I  am  not  mistaken  ;  you  have  not 
been  brought  up  in  Roumania.  Now  I  am  going  to 
guess  the  country  and  the  city  where  you  spent  some 
of  your  earliest  years.  Let  me  see.  .  .  .  Everyone 
here  speaks  French  beautifully,  German  too,  but  you 
speak  English  almost  like  an  Englishwoman,  there 
is  not  the  slightest  difference  between  your  English 

198 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

and  your  French.  And  yet.  .  .  .  Ah !  How 
stupid  of  me  not  to  see  it  immediately.  You  were 
brought  up  in  Paris,  There  is  no  mistake  about 
that.     You  need  not  try  to  deny  it." 

"  I  do  not,  but  may  I  ask  your  Royal  Highness 
what  reasons  led  you  to  form  that  conclusion,  which 
is  a  correct  one  }  " 

"  Of  course,"  answered  the  Prince  triumphantly. 
"  Paris,  Paris  only  could  have  taught  you.  .  .  ." 

"  What  has  Paris  taught  her  which  makes  her 
French  education  so  conspicuous  in  her?  "  questioned 
the  Queen. 

*'  Can  your  Majesty  not  guess  ^  She  is  very 
young  yet,  in  perfect  possession  of  the  conviction,  so 
widespread  in  France,  that  woman  is  on  a  footing  of 
equality  with  if  not  of  superiority  to  man.  She  has 
a  quiet,  authoritative  way  of  giving  her  opinions,  as  if 
feeling  absolutely  sure  that  her  every  word  will  be 
taken  into  consideration.  Now  in  Germany,  where 
man  prevails,  a  woman  would  speak  in  tones  of 
humility  and  feel  so  much  astonished  at  being  con- 
sulted that  at  first  she  would  find  no  words  to 
answer,  even  if  she  were  extremely  clever  or 
learned." 

"  In  the  upper  classes,  perhaps,"  answered  the 
Queen.  "  But  I  cannot  let  you  ignore  the  many 
remarkable  women  in  Germany — how  well  armed 
they  are  with  clever  arguments  and  fluent  speech." 

"  Your  Majesty  misunderstands  me.  I  simply 
mean  the  way  of  putting  forth  ideas,  the  security  of 

199 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

mind  and  tone,  that  is  French.  .  .  .  Then  the  other 
trait,  a  very  striking  one  also,  you  went  on  writing 
while  we  were  speaking." 

*'  But  your  Royal  Highness  does  not  mean  to  say 
that  '  Time  is  money  '  is  a  French  proverb  or  an 
exclusively  Parisian  saying  ?  " 

"  No,  but  the  French  prefer  ideas  to  sentiment, 
and  of  course  you  were  following  up  an  idea  which 
you  were  afraid  of  losing.  What  were  you  writing 
...   a  poem   ...  or  a  prose  tale  ^ " 

"  A  letter  to  my  mother." 

A  tender  smile  passed  over  the  Prince's  features. 
"And  do  you  write  often  to  her  ^  " 

"  Every  day." 

"So  do  I  to  the  Queen." 

"  And  as  my  mother  will  feel  very  anxious  to  hear 
all  about  your  Royal  Highness's  visit,  and  I  have  a 
good  deal  of  work  to  do  for  the  Queen,  I  thought  I 
might  try  to  finish  this  letter." 

"And  I  have  been  unkind  enough  to  hinder  you. 
.  .  .  Well,  let  me  atone.  .  .  .  Please  tell  your 
dear  mother  you  are  writing  under  dictation  and 
write  this  :  '  The  Prince  of  Naples  is  delighted  with 
Roumania,  loves  and  admires  its  Queen,  and  thanks 
you  for  having  given  your  daughter  such  an  excel- 
lent education  (though  she  is  uncivil  enough  to  write 
to  you  while  I  am  present),  taught  her  so  many  lan- 
guages and  inspired  her  with  the  same  great  affection 
as  he  has  for  his  own  mother.'  When  I  had  finished 
the   sentence,  the  Prince   took  the  pen  and   traced 


200 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

these  words  at  the  foot  of  the  page,  '  Witnessed  and 
signed  by  me  :   Vittorio  Emmanuele  di  Savoia^  " 

"  Now  all  of  you  take  care  what  you  say,"  said 
the  Prince  laughingly  when  a  few  minutes  later 
we  were  gathered  round  the  tea-table.  I  write  down 
everything,  and  there  is  not  a  word  that  I  do  not  re- 
member. I  am  a  phonograph.  .  .  .  But  my  diary  is 
locked.  It  contains  portraits  which  I  draw  on  the 
flyleaf  in  order  to  make  physiognomies  speak  for 
themselves." 

Every  time  he  returned  from  the  sightseeing 
expeditions  to  which  the  King  regularly  conducted 
him,  the  Prince  of  Naples  came  to  the  Queen's 
sitting-room  as  one  accustomed  to  be  on  intimate 
terms  with  her  Majesty,  and  continued  to  give 
abundant  proofs  of  his  intelligent  appreciation  of  the 
courtesy  shown  him.  The  numerous  hospitals 
scattered  in  and  about  Bucharest,  and  their  vast 
proportions,  struck  the  Prince  strongly  and  led  him 
to  question  us  much  on  the  subject. 

"  Why  are  there  more  hospitals  in  Bucharest  than 
in  any  other  town  ^  " 

**  Our  ancestors  built  them.  .  .  .  Our  forefathers 
were  inspired  with  a  mysticism  almost  as  deep  and 
ardent  as  the  faith  of  the  Middle  Ages.  In  order  to 
obtain  mercy  for  their  sins  they  created  hospitals  and 
endowed  them  with  immense  wealth.  These  hospitals 
own  many  of  the  greatest  estates  in  the  country." 

'*  Oh,  the  miracles  of  faith  !  "  answered  the  Prince. 
"You  should  see  the  pilgrims  clustering  round  the 

20 1 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Holy  Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem  to  understand  the 
power  and  beauty  of  faith.  You  should  see  the  stones 
there  which  are  always  bathed  with  tears,  almost  black 
like  the  stones  upon  which  rain  perpetually  falls." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.  "  They  are  the  tears  of  my 
brethren  of  the  Orthodox  religion,  the  Russian 
pilgrims  who  cross  the  vast  Asiatic  desert  on 
foot  to  reach  the  tomb  of  the  Saviour.  Yes,  the 
Orthodox  pilgrims  know  how  to  show  their  love  for 
Him." 

*'  They  do  not  love  Him  any  better  than  the 
Catholics,"  answered  the  Prince  with  a  flash  of 
indignation.  "  You  are  quite  mistaken.  You 
speak  from  hearsay,  whereas  I  have  seen.  .  .  . 
But  we  must  not  have  a  religious  dispute  on  the 
subject." 

*' No,"  interposed  the  Queen.  "Postpone  the 
subject  to  another  time,  or  I  might  be  tempted  to 
put  in  a  word  or  two  in  favour  of  the  Protestants, 
and  discord  would  reign  in  this  spot  where  har- 
mony should  hold  sway.  Do  you  know  that  the 
Prince  is  so  kind  as  to  compare  my  Court  to 
the  Court  of  Ferrara  ?  But  will  not  your  Royal 
Highness  return  to  the  Jerusalem  journey .?  What 
did  you  feel  when  you  came  in  sight  of  the  Holy 
City  .?  " 

"  An  emotion  so  terrible  that  it  seemed  to  me  that 
I  had  not  been  prepared  for  it,  though  I  expected 
much.  The  culminating  point  of  my  voyage  was 
when,  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  where  our  Lord 

202 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

preached  the  sermon  of  love  and  contrition,  we  saw 
the  clouds  that  hid  the  summit  roll  away  one  by 
one,  recalling  to  us  the  veil  of  the  sanctuary  that  was 
rent  in  twain  when  Jesus  Christ  died.  Thus  the 
clouds  divided  and  we  perceived  against  the  clear  sky 
the  form  of  a  shepherd  standing  motionless  in  an 
attitude  of  solemn  communion  with  the  elements 
and  God.  It  seemed  to  us  that  the  Good  Shepherd 
Himself  had  come  back  to  the  mountain  on  which 
His  immortal  prayer  was  first  uttered,  '  Our  Father 
who  art  in  Heaven.'  ..." 

We  sat  silent,  awed  and  touched  by  the  eloquent 
interpretation  of  this  unique  scene,  when,  passing  to 
another  topic,  the  Prince  referred  to  our  soldiers. 
"  Though  they  belong  to  the  Latin  race  they  look 
graver  than  our  Italian  troopers,  our  own  dear  soldiers. 
I  love  them,  I  love  them,  come  la  mia  ciele^  like  my 
own  skies.  Ah,  how  gay,  how  brave,  how  tireless 
are  our  bersaglieri !  They  move  as  swiftly  as  deer 
and  the  tufts  on  their  shoulders  dance  in  the  wind. 
How  charming  and  how  unlike  all  other  music  are 
the  marches  that  lead  them  in  their  quick  race ! 
Shall  I  whistle  and  sing  them  to  you  }  "  And  to 
our  great  delight  the  Prince  began  to  imitate  the 
sound  of  fifes  and  flutes  and  bugles.  Soon  all  the 
glamour  of  Italy  crept  over  us.  In  a  vision,  quick 
as  the  joyous  and  warlike  cadences,  we  saw  the  regi- 
ments passing  through  the  Campagna  Romana  or 
along  the  streets  of  some  quaint  Italian  town.    There 

he  stood  lifting  up  his  energetic  head,  the  slender, 

203 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

nervous  hands  crossed  on  his  knees,  singing  the 
songs  he  loved — the  songs  through  which  all  the 
eager  movement,  the  untiring  youthful  effort  that 
leads  modern  Italy  towards  civilisation  seemed  to 
roll  before  our  eyes.  All  the  hurried,  exultant 
progress  of  Italy  seemed  to  stir  before  us  in  the 
person  of  this  young  Prince,  who  would  one 
day  hold  the  sway  of  the  realm  in  those  same 
restless  hands  in  whose  veins  ran  the  blood  of 
Garibaldi's  royal  friend  and  comrade  —  the  first 
Italian  King.   .  .   . 

"  We  shall  all  feel  very  sad  when  the  Prince  of 
Naples  leaves  us,"  said  the  Queen  one  day.  '*  Do 
you  know  what  he  did  this  morning  ?  At  dawn, 
while  his  aide-de-camp  was  still  asleep,  he  got  up 
quietly  and  slipped  out,  hailed  a  cab  and  ordered  the 
driver  to  take  him  through  the  poorest  suburbs  of 
the  town.  When  his  officers  rose  and  found  that 
the  Prince  had  disappeared,  imagine  their  distress. 
He  has  only  just  returned,  a  few  minutes  before 
breakfast." 

At  that  moment  the  Prince  came  into  the  room. 
"  I  can  see  that  your  Majesty  is  relating  my  morning's 
excursion,  and  a  very  pleasant  one  it  was,  too.  Now 
I  am  well  acquainted  with  every  feature  of  your 
city.  On  the  way  I  spoke  to  several  peasants  and  to 
a  soldier.  They  all  understood  me,  Roumanian  is  so 
like  Italian.  You  could  not  expect  me  to  content 
myself,  could  you,  with  official  accounts  and  inter- 
pretations of  this  country  .''     The  coachman  had  no 

204 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

idea  who  I  was,  so  I  could  converse  freely  with  him 
all  the  time." 

That  evening  one  of  Moliere's  plays  was  per- 
formed in  the  Palace.  After  the  performance  the 
Prince  came  up  to  me. 

"  Moliere  is  a  fine  fellow,"  he  said.  "  So  genuinely 
witty  and  caustic.  But  I  prefer  Shakespeare  to  all 
the  other  great  geniuses  of  the  world.  I  know  the 
English  language  almost  as  well  as  my  own  and  love 
it.  No  language  can  express  humour  and  terse  irony 
better.  Do  you  know  I  often  write  to  my  mother 
in  English  ^  When  you  come  to  Italy  you  will  hear 
so  much  about  me  that  is  untrue  that  I  am  delighted 
that  you  should  have  seen  me  abroad." 

In  this  respect  the  Prince  of  Naples  was  mistaken, 
as  I  believe  that  the  best  experience  one  can  have  of 
a  person,  more  especially  if  that  person  happen  to  be 
a  Prince,  is  acquired  by  observing  him  in  his  own 
land  ;  and  when,  a  few  years  later,  I  met  the  Prince 
suddenly  and  unexpectedly,  I  discovered  in  him  many 
qualities  that  he  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of 
displaying  in  Roumania. 

It  was  on  a  sultry  afternoon.  Pisa  slept  in  a  haze 
of  mellow  light  and  the  grass  lay  yellow  around  the 
Campo  Santo  and  the  tall  white  Cathedral.  We  had 
wandered  from  the  Church  to  the  Baptistery,  and 
were  about  to  enter  the  Campo  Santo  when  a  stern 
official  interposed. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  visit  the  Campo  Santo  to-day. 
The  Prince  of  Naples  is  in  Pisa  and  is  coming  here. 

205  M 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

The    Campo     Santo    is    closed     to    travellers    and 


visitors." 


In  great  distress  we  remained  assembled  in  a  group 
trying  to  convince  the  man  that  we  would  not  dis- 
turb the  Prince,  that  we  only  wanted  to  see  Oscagna's 
frescoes,  and  would  move  about  as  softly  as  mice. 
He  refused  even  to  listen  to  us,  and  we  were  making 
up  our  minds  to  give  up  all  idea  of  seeing  the 
frescoes,  though  we  could  not  tell  when  we  might 
return  to  Pisa,  when  all  at  once  I  recognised  one  of 
the  royal  aides-de-camp  who  was  coming  towards  us. 
I  explained  our  position  to  him,  he  gave  an  order, 
and  in  another  moment  we  had  entered  the  forbidden 
precincts.  From  tomb  to  tomb,  from  inscription  to 
inscription  we  strolled,  keenly  alive  to  the  calm  glory 
of  the  place.  The  roses  were  in  full  bloom  on  the 
plot  of  holy  earth  brought  from  Jerusalem,  and  a 
soft  silence,  steeped  in  the  profound  drowsiness  of 
the  summer  air,  lay  upon  the  place. 

Suddenly  the  sharp  sound  of  bugles  and  military 
music  burst  upon  the  ancient,  dreamy  Campo  Santo. 
The  strains  of  the  royal  march  echoed  through  the 
slender  marble  colonnades.  I  remembered  hearing 
the  Prince  of  Naples  whistle  that  same  national 
anthem  which  now  ushered  him  into  our  view.  How 
unchanged  and  yet  how  different  he  seemed  amid 
that  brilliant  cortege  in  the  attitude  of  one  now 
ready  to  condescend  and  bestow  favours.  On  re- 
cognising us,  he  bade  us  follow,  and  going  from 
tomb  to  tomb  as  we  had  done,  he  awoke  the  very 

206 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

soul  of  history,  here  with  a  quotation,  there  with  a 
remark,  touching  with  his  fine  nervous  hands  the 
rusty  old  chains  which  still  bear  testimony  to  the 
days  when  Pisa  was  a  port  and  mirrored  her  beauty 
on  the  bosom  of  the  faithless  sea.  .   .  . 

For  a  Prince  so  accomplished  and  so  singularly 
original,  for  a  sovereign  as  learned  and  wise  as  he  is, 
disdainful  of  light  pleasures  and  pursuits,  a  spouse 
was  needed  who  would  herself  bring  strength  and 
talents  to  the  royal  house. 

"  I  will  not  marry  a  doll  or  a  stick.  I  will  not 
make  a  match  to  suit  popular  desires  or  general 
custom,  but  a  marriage  that  will  bring  me  complete 
happiness,  because  if  I  am  happy  so  will  be  my 
parents  and  the  nation.  And  if  I  find  the  wife  of 
my  dreams,  and  if  your  poetic  ideals  approve  my 
choice,  I  wish  you  to  be  the  first  to  congratulate  me, 
remember  that,  ..." 

Thus  had  the  Prince  spoken  at  Bucharest  on  the 
March  evening  that  had  preceded  his  departure,  and 
the  Queen  laughed  as  I  promised.  When  the 
Princess  of  Naples,  a  radiant  bride,  came  out  of  the 
church  amid  songs  and  flowers  leaning  on  her  hus- 
band's arm,  and  receiving  eager  congratulations 
from  every  side,  a  friend  of  mine,  a  lady  whose 
exalted  position  made  the  task  easy,  stepped  forward 
and  congratulated  the  Prince  in  my  name. 

For  one  instant  only  he  remained  confounded,  then 
in  a  flash  he  rememberd  and  answered  : 

"  Yes,  my  ideal  is  beautiful  ;   indeed  she  is  quite 

207 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

right,"  and  with  all  his  heart  in  his  voice  he  fervently 
returned  his  thanks. 

I  met  Queen  Elena  of  Italy  in  Naples  before 
she  became  a  Queen.  My  family  had  been  closely 
associated  vi'ith  the  princely  family  of  Montenegro, 
and  long  before  that  Florentine  morning  her  sv/eet, 
pensive  face  had  been  familiar  to  me.  I  had  heard 
about  the  wild  Tchernagora,  where  she  was  edu- 
cated and  where  she  herself  gave  lessons  to  her 
little  sisters,  and  was  the  joy  of  her  father's  house. 
Therefore,  when  I  gazed  at  the  pallid  countenance, 
the  sleepy  black  eyes  whose  glances  thrilled  into  life 
whenever  her  husband  stooped  towards  her  or  spoke, 
as  I  watched  her  listening  somewhat  despondently 
while  in  the  new  Etruscan  Museum  a  professor  versed 
in  the  mysteries  of  that  ancient  race  delivered  a  most 
interesting  speech — it  appeared  to  me  that  a  mystery 
greater  than  the  spells  written  in  that  language 
whose  secret  is  for  ever  dead,  lay  in  the  slim  person 
of  the  Tchernagora  maiden  who  had  so  recently 
become  an  Italian  Princess,  passing  from  the  eagle's 
nest  to  a  halcyon  land. 

After  the  speech  was  delivered  the  Princess  rose ; 
there  was  a  kind  of  graceful  apathy  in  her  move- 
ments which  spoke  more  of  Oriental  ease  than  moun- 
tain sturdiness,  but  the  moment  she  opened  her  lips 
the  energy  of  her  forefathers  was  to  be  detected  in 
the  luminous  orbs  of  black  velvet  shining  between 
the  dark  lashes. 

"  Oh,  is  not  Florence  lovely  ?     1  am  trying  to  dis- 

208 


VICTOR  EMMANUEL  III.  AND  QUEEN 

cover  which  Italian  town  I  love  most.  But  directly 
I  stay  two  or  three  days  in  one,  I  am  unfaithful  to 
the  one  I  have  just  left.  Italy  is  to  me  an  ocean  of 
flowers,  pictures,  and  smiles.  But  is  it  not  sad  that 
no  way  can  be  found  to  decipher  these  Etruscan 
inscriptions  .''  How  awful  to  think  that  a  whole  race 
can  thus  perish  completely !  "  The  Princess  shud- 
dered. "  In  our  dear  Tchernagora  we  believe  that  as 
long  as  a  song  survives  the  remembrance  of  a  nation 
cannot  be  lost — I  mean  a  song  of  heroism,  relating 
some  brave  deed.  But  the  Estruscans  have  left 
more  than  a  song,  they  have  left  statues,  urns,  arms, 
records  of  their  customs,  the  tombs  where  their  kings 
lie  in  glistening  array,  yet  to  us  they  are  quite  dead 
because  not  a  record  from  them  ever  crosses  the  ages 
to  reach  our  souls.  ...  It  really  seems  true  that  the 
human  word  contains  the  only  real  life." 

Elena  of  Italy  and  Montenegro  stood  there 
amidst  the  remnants  of  Etruscan  civilisation  and  art. 
She  seemed  taller  than  the  other  ladies  present,  and 
her  pale  face  shone,  while  through  the  open  windows 
the  Florentine  breeze  brought  the  perfume  of  roses 
and  the  murmur  of  the  busy  city.  All  the  vigour 
and  promise  of  Spring  quivered  through  the  hall, 
avoiding  the  soulless  urns  and  statues  to  centre  round 
the  daughter  of  the  Minstrel  Prince,  of  the  Warrior- 
Singer,  Nicholas  of  Montenegro. 


209 


riioto  I'V  /■ran  , til,  Maiirid 

QUEEN    MARIA    LIlRIS'llNA  AND   KINC;   Al.lONSO  XII 1.  OK  SPAIN 


QUEEN    MARIA    CHRISTINA    AND 
KING  ALFONSO  XIII.  OF  SPAIN 

As  one  follows  the  rocky  road  that  leads  to  Madrid, 
through  plains  desolate  and  bereft  of  trees  or  verdure, 
leaving  far  behind  one  the  green  softness  of  the 
Guipujera  provinces  and  the  fairness  of  Burgos,  that 
weird  old  city  clad  in  its  mantle  of  foliage,  haunted 
of  a  moonlit  night  by  the  phantom  of  the  national 
hero,  the  marvellous  warrior,  Cid  Campeador,  a 
sense  of  loneliness  akin  to  terror  fills  the  soul.  On 
each  side  of  the  railway  stretch  grey  stones  and 
brown  earth  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  and  the  wan- 
dering herds,  whose  slow  steps  alone  disturb  the 
dreary  solitude,  have  difficulty  in  finding  a  morsel  of 
grass  or  wild  herb  to  graze  upon.  And  when 
through  the  thick  folds  of  the  morning  mist  the 
Escurial  with  its  numberless  turrets  bursts  suddenly 
upon  the  view,  the  sight  is  by  no  means  calculated 
to  relieve  the  imagination  or  dispel  the  mournful 
impressions  created  on  the  way.  How  black  and 
how  menacing  a  mountain  can  look  only  those  can 
realise  who  have  gazed   upon  the  dark  slopes  and 

213 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

darker  summit  that  towers  above  that  melancholy 
palace.  Of  course,  at  the  very  first  glance,  it  is  easy 
to  infer  that  not  a  single  room  can  exist  within  that 
palace  whose  walls,  floor  and  ceiling  are  not  over- 
shadowed by  its  high  neighbour  the  Sierra.  Indeed, 
from  earliest  times  the  mountain  appears  to  have 
cherished  the  impossible  ambition  of  entering  the 
building,  and  in  the  meantime  cast  upon  pavement, 
court  and  garden  signs,  as  it  were,  of  mute  wrath, 
like  the  distant  aspect  of  a  thundercloud  before  the 
storm  speaks  from  within  its  folds.  Notwithstanding 
all  the  pains  that  a  modern  Spanish  monarch  (one  of 
the  Bourbon  dynasty)  took  to  lighten  the  gloomy- 
atmosphere  of  the  Escurial  salons  by  placing  in  them 
gay  furniture  and  tapestry  worked  in  bright  and 
varied  colours,  the  forbidding  presence  of  Philip  II. 
still  lurks  behind  its  high  wooden  doors.  It  was  he 
who  built  the  palace  in  one  of  the  few  rare  moments 
of  cheerfulness  and  grace  known  to  that  grim  poten- 
tate. On  the  eve  of  the  Battle  of  St.  Quentin's,  in 
which  his  troops  overcame  the  French  army,  he 
swore  that  if  the  Spaniards  proved  victorious  he 
would  build  a  huge  convent  dedicated  to  St.  Law- 
rence, the  Saint  under  whose  patronage  he  had  placed 
the  fate  of  the  campaign.  Now  as  St.  Lawrence  was 
a  martyr,  and  had  been  burnt  to  death  on  a  gridiron, 
the  king  tried  to  give  the  cloister  the  appearance  of 
that  instrument  of  torment  by  building  eleven  court- 
yards separated  by  as  many  suites  of  cells  and  apart- 
ments ;  each  of  these  was  to  represent  one  of  the 

214 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

rods  of  the  gridiron,  and  the  courts  were  meant  to 
symbolise  the  space  between  the  rods,  while  the 
King's  own  suite  of  chambers  formed  the  handle. 

Almost  the  whole  line  of  sovereigns  belonging  to 
the  Austrian  dynasty  have  borne  some  affinity  for 
this  strange  abode,  where  amidst  dismal  prayers 
and  cruel  designs  were  spent  the  days  of  the  most 
illustrious  among  them,  Philip  the  Second.  Into 
every  corner  of  the  land  they  poured  as  it  were,  like 
an  ocean  of  lead  and  blood,  the  dread  sensation  of 
their  invisible  presence.  Unseen  by  the  people,  who 
knew  only  that  the  King  of  Spain  lived  surrounded 
by  an  etiquette  whose  strict  laws  had  changed  him 
from  a  living  human  being  into  a  shadow  bowed 
down  by  his  own  grandeur,  the  throne  came  to  be 
surrounded  more  by  awe  than  love.  Scenes  of  horror 
and  fear  formed  around  it  an  atmosphere  as  funereal 
and  heavy  as  the  odours  of  the  dim  Pudrideiro, 
where  after  death  the  monarch's  corpses  were  pre- 
served till  the  slow  drops  of  water  falling  upon  them 
achieved  the  work  of  destruction.  These  awful 
images  may  well  typify  a  race  whose  last  representa- 
tive, pale,  haughty,  and  worn  out  by  generations  of 
terrible  ancestors,  appear  to  be  kept  from  dropping 
like  a  faded  leaf  only  by  the  pride  which  still  sur- 
vives in  their  clear  and  languid  blue  eyes. 

From  such  memories,  well  in  keeping  with  the 
landscape  of  brown  earth  and  grey  stones,  from  such 
gruesome  associations,  does  Madrid — lively  and 
beautiful  Madrid — rouse  the  traveller  as,  dazed   by 

215 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  din  and  the  sunlight,  he  rolls  through  her  indo- 
lent and  crowded  streets.  Who  would  think  longer 
of  Philip  II.  or  remain  pondering  over  the  painful 
past  ^  Mirth  and  noise,  the  bustle  of  impatient 
tradesmen,  the  slim  figures  of  toreros  in  their  every- 
day garb,  the  rich  equipages  of  the  wealthy  and  the 
merry  laugh  of  the  poor,  these  express  in  outward 
appearance  what  Madrid  means  to  her  happy  children, 
and  why  they  deem  their  own  city  fair  above  every 
other  in  the  world.  At  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night,  whatever  be  the  season  or  the  weather,  the 
streets  are  ever  full  to  overflowing,  and,  carried  on 
by  the  torrent  of  wild  enjoyment  and  eager  move- 
ment, the  mind  of  the  calmest,  the  gravest  person 
retains  only  the  power  necessary  to  ask  in  a  timid 
softo  voce  manner :  "  Who  cooks  their  dinners  for 
them,  who  looks  after  the  children,  the  little  ones 
that  they  are  obliged  to  leave  at  home  ?  " — for  the 
idea  that  there  can  be  any  one  left  in  the  houses  seems 
preposterous.  As  to  the  habit  in  Madrid  society  of 
driving  to  the  Castellana  every  afternoon,  it  is  so 
inveterate  that  one  day  when  I  had  desisted  from 
following  the  universal  example,  because  I  could  not 
tear  myself  away  from  a  thrilling  book,  all  our 
friends  left  cards,  feeling  sure  that  one  of  us  must 
be  ill,  if  not  both.  There  is  something  touching,  in 
many  ways  worthy  of  perfect  approval,  in  the  fact 
that  at  the  hour  of  the  Angelus,  with  just  the  same 
hasty,  elastic  step,  the  same  buoyant  exuberance,  the 
whole  population,  not  an  individual  excepted,  rushes 

216 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

for  a  few  moments  into  the  ever-open  churches  to 
pray. 

Over  the  chaos  and  turmoil  of  faces,  carriages, 
screams,  chatter,  clatter  and  patter,  like  a  great  white 
bird  the  Royal  Palace  spreads  its  long  wings.     One 
is  rather  bewildered  to  find  it  has  an  air  as  modern 
as  the  furniture   in    the   Escurial,   nay,    even  more 
up-to-date.      And  it  is  needful  to  remember  how 
unchanged  are   the  traditions    still  revered  behind 
the  massive  walls,  or  one  would   experience  a  sense 
almost  of  disappointment  since  the  grandeur  of  the 
Spanish  monarchy  seems  inseparable  from  the  legends 
of  the  Camerera  major — the  dreaded  Court  officers 
and  severe   Court   dames — and  the  Court   of  Spain 
could  no  longer  boast  of  being  the  strictest  Court 
in   Europe  if  it  did  not  remain  faithful   to  all   its 
terrible  rules.      In  some  details  the  stern  etiquette 
has  had  to  be  modified,  as  fear  of  ridicule  overcame 
the  dread  of  losing  the  lustre  which  centuries  alone 
can  bestow.     But  to   this   day  the  visitor   ascending 
the  tall  flight  of  stairs  leading  to  the   upper  hall  is 
told  that  after  the  first  ten  steps  he   must  take  his 
hat  oflF,  and  the  ladies  who  accompany  him  must  bow, 
because  from  that  spot  he  is  supposed  to  perceive  a 
fold  or  stray  glimmer  of  one  of  the  three  sacred  ban- 
ners which  belonged  to  the  three  ancient  orders  of 
chivalry  in  Spain.     He  also  learns,  if  his  guide  knows 
anything  of  the  usages  of  the  Court,  that  all  grandees 
have  a  right  to  enter  the  Palace  unbidden  and  at 
any  hour  to  ask  for  an  interview  with   the  monarch, 

217 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

who  calls  every  grandee  his  cousin  ;  and  that  no 
nobleman  has  the  right  to  bear  his  titles  on  succession 
until  the  King  has  given  him  permission  to  do  so. 
This  takes  place  only  after  a  very  curious  and  intri- 
cate ceremony,  at  which  all  the  other  grandees  are 
present,  wearing  their  traditional  robes  and  huge 
feathered  hats,  which  they  hold  in  their  hands  till  the 
King,  after  having  questioned  the  new  Duke  or  Count 
as  to  the  origin  and  merits  of  his  forefathers,  tells 
him  to  don  his  headgear,  while  the  grandees  gathered 
around  him  do  the  same,  and  all  stand  with  heads 
covered  in  the  presence  of  their  sovereign — a  privilege 
very  dear  to  the  Spanish  nobility. 

To  atone  for  the  absence  of  feudal  grandeur,  the 
Royal  Palace  of  Madrid  abounds  in  art  treasures, 
reminding  one  that  the  Bourbon  ancestor  of  the 
present  King  was  grandson  to  the  French  monarch 
whose  taste  for  splendour  and  elegance  in  his  sur- 
roundings was  so  remarkable.  That  the  young 
Sovereign  belongs  to  the  Latin  race  is  quite  apparent 
in  the  cut  of  his  clear  features,  the  vivacity  of  his 
glance,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  he  follows  the 
scenes  that  come  under  his  eyes.  Were  it  not 
for  his  thick  lips,  a  characteristic  feature  in  the 
Hapsbourg  family,  it  would  be  difficult  to  remember 
that  his  mother  is  an  Austrian  archduchess,  and  calls 
her  son  "  Bubb  "  (little  boy)  exactly  as  does  every 
other  Viennese  mother,  be  she  noblewoman  or 
shopkeeper. 

The  task  which  lay  before  the  Queen  of  Spain  in 

218 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

rearing  her  child  was  a  hard  one.  From  the  very 
moment  of  his  birth  the  infant  came  into  the  world 
a  King,  and  his  first  screams  were  respectfully  checked 
by  his  nurses  with  the  soft  remonstrance  "  Will  your 
Majesty  deign  to  be  quiet  ?  "  The  Royal  mother 
had  to  struggle  against  the  wild  desire  which  pos- 
sessed the  Spanish  nation  to  approach  their  Sovereign, 
and  yet  try  to  make  the  baby  understand  how  dear 
he  was  to  them.  She  insisted  in  keeping  him  away 
as  much  as  possible  from  the  places  and  pursuits 
that  would  recall  his  rank  to  him  ;  she  wished  his 
childhood  to  be  as  happy  as  that  of  any  ordinary 
mortal,  and  yet  she  might  not  lose  sight  of  the 
necessity  of  teaching  him  the  privileges  and  duties 
of  a  Sovereign. 

Books  on  almost  every  subject  the  human  mind 
can  refer  to  have  been  written,  but  a  really  useful, 
comprehensive  book  dealing  with  the  education  it 
would  be  fitting  to  bestow  on  a  Prince  does  not 
exist,  nor  will  it  ever  be  written,  since  cases  must 
always  vary  according  to  race  and  climate.  For 
instance,  the  Austrian  Empire  needs  a  ruler  taciturn, 
courteous,  and  grave,  who  shows  himself  to  his 
subjects  on  rare  occasions,  and  with  a  few  simple 
words  will  thread  his  way  through  all  the  conflicts 
astir  in  the  different  countries  gathered  under  his 
sceptre.  An  Emperor  of  Russia  must  appear  strong 
as  iron,  speak  in  tones  of  absolute  self-control  and 
self-reliance,    and    never    seem  to    ask   for    advice. 

Somewhat  mystical  and  melancholy,  the  King  of  the 

219 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

young  Italian  realm  should  love  eloquence,  travelling, 
Parliamentary  discussions,  and  be  ever  on  the  move, 
like  the  ideals  of  the  fair  land  which  stands  between 
the  two  seas.  King  Edward  VII.  gives  us  the  example 
of  a  true  British  Monarch,  and  acts  well  up  to  the 
standard  required  to  make  him  take  a  high  place  in 
the  history  of  his  country. 

The  demands  of  the  Spaniards  as  to  what  they 
expect  their  King  to  be  and  do  for  them  are  numerous 
and  varied  as  they  are  difficult  to  define.  King 
Alfonso  XII.,  the  father  of  the  present  King,  seems 
to  have  satisfied  them  in  many  ways,  and  in  speaking 
of  the  deceased  Monarch  they  always  say  :  "  He 
was  not  only  a  perfect  Spaniard  but  a  perfect  King 
of  Spain  " — though  why  and  how  he  should  have 
succeeded  in  obtaining  this  double  title  at  once  they 
themselves  would  perhaps  be  embarrassed  to  explain . 
This  much  I  have  been  able  to  infer :  that  a  real 
Spaniard  must  be  lively,  love  bullfights,  tressilio, 
and  his  pride,  spend  money  lavishly,  be  familiar 
with  the  haughty  and  haughty  with  the  familiar  ; 
and  that  a  King  of  Spain  has  to  imitate  a  real  Spaniard 
in  order  to  become  a  perfect  King.  Yet  in  this 
very  imitation  lies  the  danger  he  incurs,  because, 
while  he  is  exactly  like  all  other  Spaniards  around 
him,  he  might  forget,  or  allow  them  to  forget,  that 
he  is  King;  if  the  temptation  took  hold  of  him  to 
remind  them  of  the  fact,  he  would  instantly  lose 
the  above-mentioned  qualities.  Now  it  appears  that 
King   Alfonso   XII.    could  with  wonderful   success 


220 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

play  both  parts  in  turn,  or  even  in  the  same  moment, 
and  his  son  is  expected  to  resemble  him.  His 
Austrian  mother  had  many  a  time  to  fight  with  her 
own  instincts  and  the  principles  dearest  to  her  heart 
when  she  felt  this  desire  of  the  nation  rise  behind 
her  child's  footsteps  to  urge  him  on.  But  the  young 
King  of  Spain  is  a  real  Spaniard,  and  every  inch  a 
real  King.  A  few  touches  of  Hapsbourg  dignity 
blend  with  the  Bourbon  grace  and  render  his  slight 
figure  and  youthful  face  attractive,  although  he 
cannot  truthfully  be  called  handsome. 

Traces  of  the  enormous  wealth  and  luxury  of  the 
ancient  Kings  of  Spain  are  to  be  found  in  the  long 
range  of  Royal  stables,  where  one  may  spend  many 
interesting  hours.  Besides  the  great  number  of  gala 
carriages  panelled  with  ivory,  ebony  and  gold,  or 
painted  by  the  greatest  artists  of  their  time,  the 
horses,  of  high  pedigree  and  quick  blood,  belonging 
to  the  King,  the  Queen  Mother  and  the  Infantas, 
attract  our  admiration  ;  while  stablemen  and  grooms 
in  bright  liveries  stand  like  statues  before  each  stall, 
keeping  watch  over  the  noble  animals  and  ready  at 
an  instant's  notice  to  saddle  the  hunter  or  cob  under 
their  charge.  A  hall  vast  as  that  of  a  museum  is 
full  of  harness  of  all  sorts,  old  and  new,  to  be  used 
either  on  ordinary  occasions  or  for  pageants.  Here 
we  saw  the  bright  red  lace  and  blue  fringe  which 
adorned  the  mules  dear  to  poor  young  Queen  Mer- 
cedes, and  her  small  saddles  reminded  us  how  the 
beautiful  Princess  loved  to  gallop  at  full  speed  under 

221 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  shadow  of  the  trees  in  the  Royal  parks.  She  died 
on  the  morning  of  her  eighteenth  birthday,  and  the 
roar  of  the  cannons  intended  to  salute  the  joyful 
anniversary  echoed  round  the  Palace  where  she  lay 
in  state,  with  the  delicate  bloom  that  settles  on  the 
face  of  those  who  go  down  to  an  early  grave. 

But  however  unhappy  the  fate  of  Queen  Mercedes 
may  have  been,  no  heroine  in  the  history  of  Spain, 
except  Ximena,  appeals  so  strongly  to  the  imagina- 
tion as  Juana  la  Loca,  Mad  Queen  Joan,  mother  of 
the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  who  was  married  to  Philip 
the  Fair,  so  called  from  his  handsome  face  and. 
graceful  bearing.  He  was  chivalrous,  kind  and 
brave,  and  Juana  adored  her  husband.  When  she 
saw  the  pallor  of  his  last  hour  settle  on  his  coun- 
tenance, when  she  found  that  no  fond  embrace  could 
warm  his  chilly  hands,  she  lost  her  reason.  Her 
grief  vanished  and  her  senses  became  steeped  in 
delusions.  Sinking  on  her  knees  before  her  hus- 
band's corpse  she  began  screaming  with  all  her 
might,  uttering  in  turn  words  of  endearment  and 
menace.  "  Wake,  wake !  My  noble  Lord,  my 
spouse,  my  King !  Who  dares  to  say  thou  art 
dead  ^  Thy  falcon  and  palfrey  await  thee  in  the 
court  below,  while  menials  loiter  here  and  trouble 
me  with  trifling  tales.  Thou  canst  not  die.  How 
should  Death  dare  to  touch  thy  forehead,  thy  golden 
hair,  thy  hand  whose  strength  can  lift  the  heaviest 
sword,  thy  breast  that  never  yet  quailed  beneath  the 
weight  of  heavy  armour  ?     Wake,  and  we  will  send 

222 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

to  dark  dungeons  those  who  dare  to  speak  such 
dreadful  words.  Am  I  not  thy  Queen,  mistress  of 
this  Palace  and  this  land  ?  Should  I  have  permitted 
Death  to  enter  my  dominions  and  take  thee  from 
me,  my  King  ?  " 

For  days  she  repeated  these  wild  words  while  her 
ladies   and  courtiers    entreated    her  to    believe    the 
truth.     At  last  she    consented  to  have   the  corpse 
laid  in  a  coffin  and  travelled  with  it  by  her  side, 
from   palace    to    palace,   from    cloister    to    cloister, 
without  allowing  it  to  be  buried.     Sometimes  she 
would  stop  the  long  train  of  knights  and  dames  and 
then  the  coffin  would   be  taken  down  and  Queen 
Joan  would  stand  beside  it  in  the  dusty  road  expect- 
ing the  dead  to  awaken.     The  wind  blew  her  raven 
hair  around  her  face  and  the  sun  scorched  her  deli- 
cate skin,  but  nothing  awoke  her  from  her  dream. 
One  day  her  people  in  pity   took  advantage  of  a 
deep  torpor  into  which  she  had  fallen  to  carry  off 
the  coffin   and   deposit   it  in   its   tomb ;   when  the 
Queen    awoke  she   did  not    miss  it   but    went   on 
imagining  her  husband  lay  beside  her  in  the  great 
black  coach  she  had  ordered  to  be  made  for  herself. 
Black  leather  cushions  deck  the  interior,  and  even 
the  window  panes  are  sprinkled  with  black  spots,  so 
that  it  recalls   the   famous   chariot  in  which  Pluto 
stole  away  Persephone  while  she  was  gathering  the 
first   spring    flowers   with    her    companions.     This 
fantastic  carriage  of  Juana  la  Loca  is  still  to  be  seen 
in  Madrid,  and  Queen   Maria   Christina  and  King 

223  o 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Alphonse  were  surprised  to  hear  that  I  longed  to 
mount  up  into  the  funereal  vehicle  if  only  for  a 
moment. 

"  I  do  not  care  even  to  think  of  it,"  said  Maria 
Christina,"  though  of  course  I  am  not  greatly  inter- 
ested in  Queen  Toan." 

Aranjuez,  like  the  other  Royal  Palaces  of  Spain, 
is  devoid  of  historical  interest,  because  the  old  furni- 
ture and  tapestries  have  been  set  aside  in  favour  of 
light  coloured  hangings.  The  place  is  but  a  pale 
and  feeble  imitation  of  Versailles.  The  garden, 
tended  with  special  care,  reminded  me  at  every  step 
of  those  avenues  and  shrubberies  where  Louis  XIV. 
strolled  with  his  courtiers,  whereas  I  had  hoped  to 
find  traces  of  the  times  of  Don  Carlos  who,  accord- 
ing to  Schiller's  tragedy,  is  supposed  to  have  loved 
Aranjuez,  or  seen  in  it  the  summer  residence  of 
Philip  II.,  which  was  deemed  a  place  of  such  en- 
chantment. It  is  here  that  the  memory  of  Queen 
Mercedes  is  most  vivid,  since  it  was  from  that 
Palace  that  she  went  forth  a  happy  bride,  wearing 
those  robes  of  purity  and  light  which  no  woman 
dons  twice  in  her  lifetime.  But  the  future  must 
thrust  aside  the  past,  and  even  the  sunlit  memory  of 
the  Queen-Bride  fades  before  the  fact  that  in  the 
large  drawing-room  overlooking  the  Tagus  was 
placed  the  cradle  of  King  Alphonse  III.  when  he 
first  came  to  Aranjuez.  Here  the  infant  monarch 
loved  to  lie  and  listen  to  the  rush  of  the  river. 
When  at  the  age  of  three  he  eagerly  inquired  where 

224 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

the  impetuous  torrent  went  to  In  such  a  hurry,  and 
received  the  answer  that  the  Tagus  wanted  to  get 
out  of  Spain  and  grow  big  in  another  land,  the  child 
cried  bitterly,  asking  again  and  again  if  no  one 
could  prevail  upon  the  river  to  stay  and  grow  big  in 
Spain.  On  this  occasion  his  nurse,  perhaps  un- 
wittingly, made  him  the  same  answer  as  that  which 
Victor  Hugo  caused  the  duena  to  give  to  an  infanta  : 
"  Everything  on  earth  belongs  to  Princes,  except 
the  wind  " — though  this  time  it  was  the  water  that 
failed  to  respond  to  his  demand. 

I  had  spent  two  months  in  Madrid  and  had  only 
seen  the  Royal  Family  in  places  of  public  resort 
such  as  the  Castellana,  the  Casa  di  Campo  or  Royal 
Park,  and  at  the  Opera.  Once  indeed  I  saw  the 
Queen  and  her  son  watching  with  deep  interest  a 
national  game  called  pelota^  an  open-air  exercise  very 
popular  in  the  northern  provinces  of  Spain ;  but 
though  I  tried  to  catch  as  much  of  their  features  and 
expression  as  possible,  all  I  had  been  able  to  gather 
was  that  the  young  King  was  the  merriest  boy  of  his 
age  I  had  ever  seen,  and  that  his  mother's  pathetic 
facebecame  young  and  happy  again  when  she  answered 
some  saying  of  his  by  a  smile.  Very  amusing  remarks 
they  seemed  to  be  to  judge  from  the  laughter  going 
on  in  the  royal  box,  and  once  or  twice  the  Queen  put 
her  handkerchief  over  her  mouth  to  stifle  her  hilarity, 
while  the  King  plucked  desperately  at  his  gloved 
fingers  and  assumed  an  air  of  portentous  seriousness 
while  his  mischievous  eyes  danced. 

225 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

We  were  about  to  leave  Madrid  on  account  of 
the  approach  of  the  summer  season,  but  the  friends 
with  whom  we  were  staying,  who  represented  their 
King  at  the  Court  of  Spain,  could  not  take  their 
annual  holiday  without  first  calling  upon  the 
Queen,  a  duty  which  they  knew  was  as  irksome 
to  her  Majesty  as  to  themselves,  but  which,  never- 
theless, had  to  be  performed.  We  had  settled  that 
our  departure  should  take  place  the  day  following 
that  fixed  on  by  the  Queen,  in  announcing  that  she 
would  receive  them  in  the  afternoon.  We  did  not 
expect  them  to  have  anything  very  thrilling  or  new 
to  report,  as  we  had  already  heard  from  them  every 
detail  concerning  the  Court.  Yet,  when  they  re- 
turned from  the  Palace,  they  seemed  greatly  excited. 

"The  Queen,  like  us,  is  leaving  to-morrow.  Her 
Majesty  wishes  to  see  you,  Helene.  She  cannot  let 
you  leave  Spain  without  having  been  at  the  Palace. 
She  loves  your  poems,  and  is  rather  astonished  that 
you  have  never  asked  for  the  favour  of  an  introduc- 
tion, as  she  would  have  granted  it  immediately.  She 
is  so  curious,  and  asked  us  so  many  questions  about 
your  appearance  and  ideas.  I  assured  her  Majesty 
you  would  be  delighted  to  stop  twenty-four  hours  in 
St.  Sebastian  if  you  were  invited  to  Miramar,  and 
said  you  would  follow  the  Royal  party,  as  you  are 
rather  anxious  to  return  to  Roumania  without  delay. 
This  will  also  give  you  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
Miramar." 

Two  days  afterwards  we  arrived  at  St.  Sebastian  by 

226 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

the  morning  train,  and,  according  to  the  instructions 
we  had  received,  at  once  sent  a  messenger  to  Miramar, 
begging  the  lady-in-waiting  to  apprise  the  Queen  that 
my  mother  and  myself  were  awaiting  her  Majesty's 
commands.      A   young  attache  on  the  staff  of  the 
Spanish  Foreign  Office  brought  us  the  answer  that  it 
was  her  Majesty's  pleasure  to  receive  us  that  same 
day  at  three  o'clock.     We  had  not  an  instant  to  lose, 
so  ordering  a  carriage  we  drove  to  Miramar.     The 
place  seemed  to  us  at  first  devoid  of  all  royal  pomp 
or  solemnity,   and  a  charming  atmosphere  of  peace 
pervaded  the  wainscoted  hall,  while  the  drawing-room 
into  which  we  were  ushered  looked  straight  upon  the 
sunlit   sea,  whose  soft  summer  tints  seemed  to  be 
reflected  from  the   light   hued  walls  and  furniture. 
We  had  not  much  leisure  to  look  round  us,  as  the 
equerry  in  waiting  announced  that  her  Majesty  was 
waiting  to  receive  us.     We  followed  him  through  a 
small  door,  and  the  Queen  Regent  of  Spain,  for  such 
was  her  title  at  that  moment,  stood  before  us.    I  was 
startled    to    find  her  so  slim   and    tall,    while    her 
resemblance    to    the    Austrian    Archduchess  struck 
me  so  forcibly  that  I  jumped  to  the  conclusion  our 
visit    would    prove   a  very    tame    affair,   interesting 
only  because  the  personage  who  admitted  us  to  her 
presence  was  a  queen. 

Before,  however,  I  could  reach  one  of  the  low  chairs 
to  which  her  Majesty  pointed  with  open  fan,  I  found 
myself  obliged  to  change  my  opinion,  and  muster  all 
my  faculties  in  the  course  of  an  interview  in  which  I 

227 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

felt  it  would  require  some  exertion  on  my  part  to 
appear  with  advantage.  The  Queen,  with  firm  and 
easy  grasp,  had  directed  the  conversation  into  channels 
likely  to  reveal  the  trend  of  our  personal  feelings, 
and  events  likely  to  prove  of  interest  to  her.  She 
began,  as  is  usual  with  sovereigns  when  talking  to 
foreigners,  by  praising  our  country,  and  saying  how 
greatly  she  appreciated  Carmen  Sylva's  talents  as  a 
poet,  and  her  virtues  as  a  woman  and  queen.  The 
manner  in  which  she  discussed  both  subjects  displayed 
such  an  inner  knowledge  of  Roumania  as  well  as  of 
the  life  and  works  of  our  Queen,  that  I  held  my 
breath  from  sheer  astonishment,  and  could  scarcely 
refrain  from  asking,  "  But  where  did  your  Majesty 
obtain  so  much  information  ?  " 

Then  passing  to  other  topics,  the  Queen  displayed 
the  same  accuracy  of  knowledge,  the  same  grasp  of 
people,  laws,  and  events  which  I  had  till  then  regarded 
as  out  of  the  range  of  royal  or  feminine  interest. 
Gentle  movements  of  the  head  and  hands  accom- 
panied each  observation,  and  when  she  questioned, 
with  soft,  gay  voice  and  merry  brown  eyes,  there  was 
a  kind  of  eager,  childish  expectation  on  her  face, 
marked  though  it  was  with  furrows  traced  by  tears. 

"  You  cannot  imagine  how  often  or  how  much  I 
have  wept  in  my  life,  nor  how  lonely  I  used  to  feel 
when  my  children  were  too  little  to  be  companions  to 
me.  But  as  they  began  to  play  I  used  to  play  with 
them  too,  and  would  frolic  with  them  for  hours,  and 
thus  gather  courage  and  a  clear  head  for  the  Cabinet 

228 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

Councils  at  which  I  had  to  preside.     I  had  such  a 
happy  youth,  and  I  tried  to  recall  the  memory  of 
those   days,   till   gradually    my  mind   became   like 
a    rainbow    which  smiles    between  two  storms  till, 
smothered  by  clouds,  it  disappears  only  to  reappear 
once  more.     It  is  made  up  of  sunlight  and  tears  like 
my  soul.  .  .  .  Don't  you  love  St.  Sebastian,  though 
you  can  have  been  here  only  a  few  hours  ?     It  is  a 
sweet  place,  and  the  sea  does  the  children  a  world  of 
good.     As  to  Alfonso,  I  feel  sure  that  if  he  were  not 
a  king  he  would  have  been  a  sailor,  and  come  ashore 
only  for  the    corridas  (big   bull-fights)  and  pelotas. 
Yet  he  adores  riding,  and  when  he  was  quite  little  he 
would  make  regular  scenes  when  the  time  arrived  to 
alight  from  his  horse.     I  used  to  be  quite  ashamed  of 
him  !  .  .   .  I  am  so  disappointed  that  you  cannot 
stay  one  day  longer  here — are  you  really  sure  you 
cannot } — I  had  invited  Pierre  Loti  to  lunch  with  you 
here  at  Miramar.     He  is  our  neighbour  and  lives  at 
Hendaye.    He  is  so  kind  and  true  and  such  a  genius. 
I  call  his  descriptions  of  Brittany  and  of  the  Basque 
provinces  quite   remarkable.     He   moves  me  even 
more  than  Chateaubriand,   whom  I  used   to  adore 
before  I  read  Loti's  works.    And  then  what  a  refined 
and  gentle  character  he  has.     I  feel   perfect  trust  in 
him  and  look  up  to  him,  his  quiet  manner,  his  unob- 
trusive ways  are  such  a  contrast  to  his  ardent  soul, 
ever   turned   towards   thoughts   of  death    and   im- 
mortality." 

The  Queen  cast  a  long,  lingering  glance  over  the 

229 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

bright  sea,  whose  subdued  murmur  crept  in  between 
her  words,  then  she  resumed. 

*'  I  am  keeping  you  a  very  long  time,  and  I  do  not 
ask  you  whether  you  have  anything  else  or  anything 
better  to  do,  though  I  suppose  Heaven  knows  when 
you  will  return  to  Spain.  You  are  young,  yet  what 
a  number  of  people  you  have  seen  whom  I  love  and 
admire  and  shall  never  meet  again — many,  too,  whom 
I  have  never  met  or  seen  only  once  in  my  life.  For 
instance.  Queen  Victoria  and  the  Princess  of  Wales. 
Tell  me  what  they  are  like  now — describe  your  visit 
to  England,  and  your  stay  at  Balmoral.  You  cannot 
understand  what  a  treat  this  is  to  me.  Of  course  I 
hear  from  otherSovereigns  through  official  despatches 
and  through  their  ambassadors,  but  one  can  seldom 
obtain  personal  details.  .  ,  .  Now,  I  suppose  you 
want  to  see  my  children.  They  will  be  back  from 
the  shore  in  ten  minutes.  .  .  .  Am  I  very  different 
from  what  you  imagined  me  to  be  ?  You  see  I  am 
short-sighted,  and  short-sighted  people  look  ten  times 
more  cold  and  disagreeable  than  they  are  in  reality. 
It  is  such  a  nuisance,  such  a  drawback  to  be  short- 
sighted— I  notice  that  you,  too,  wear  eye-glasses." 

"Yes,  Madame,  I  am  almost  blind,  though  my 
eyes  are  excellent  when  I  look  closely  at  an  object, 
but  I  cannot  distinguish  things,  or  faces,  or  land- 
scapes even  at  a  short  distance.  But  I  do  not  con- 
sider this  defect  as  a  calamity,  and  fail  to  share  your 
Majesty's  opinion." 

"Why.?"     . 

»3o 


QUEEN  CHRISTINA  AND  KING  ALFONSO 

"  Because  my  short  sight  has  spared  me  many  a 
disagreeable  impression,  a  cross  mien,  a  look  bent  in 
harshness  or  anger  upon  me.  I  am  thus  enabled  to 
ignore  most  of  the  ugly  sides  of  life,  and  with  the 
help  of  a  strong  imagination  and  a  cheerful  disposi- 
tion I  always  keep  in  view  the  illusion  that  the  earth 
holds  only  beauty  and  grace." 

At  this  juncture,  just  as  the  Queen  was  about  to 
reply,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  an  usher  an- 
nounced "  the  King,"  and  the  Infantas  entered, 
dressed  in  stiff  white  frocks,  their  charming  young 
faces  tanned  by  the  sea-breezes.  The  King  followed 
close  behind.  Rushing  forward  and  putting  his 
sisters  aside,  he  almost  dashed  into  his  mother's  chair, 
but  all  at  once,  becoming  aware  of  our  presence,  he 
put  on  an  air  of  dignity  which  I  could  not  have 
believed  so  young  a  boy  capable  of  assuming.  With 
outstretched  hands  he  advanced  towards  us. 

"  I  have  often  seen  you.  Do  you  like  Spain  ^ 
Which  do  you  prefer,  the  bull-fights,  the  pelota^  or 
a  military  display  }  I  don't  know  which  of  these 
delightful  things  stands  nearest  my  heart.  A  review, 
I  suppose." 

He  talked  with  a  fluent  amiability  while  the  Infantas 
listened  to  the  Queen's  explanation  of  my  theory 
concerning  the  benefits  of  short  sight.  They  laughed, 
and  at  that  moment  the  family  group  formed  a 
picture  of  such  perfect  harmony  and  bliss  that  I 
said  to  the  Queen :  "  I  am  so  pleased  to  have  seen 
your  Majesty  thus  standing  in  the  sunshine  before 

231 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  sparkling  sea,  with  the  rays  of  her  life  around 
her." 

The  Queen's  brown  eyes  filled  with  tears,  while  a 
rainbow-like  smile  played  on  her  lips.  "  When  will 
you  come  to  Spain  again  ?  And  you  are  leaving  this 
evening." 

*'  This  evening .''"  said  the  King.  "  Mamma,  I  will 
not  allow  them  to  cross  our  frontiers,"  he  added  in 
his  gay,  defiant  voice.  His  eyes  shone  at  that  moment 
like  those  of  his  Austrian  mother,  but  there  was  so 
much  Spanish  grace  and  Spanish  chivalry  in  the 
bearing  of  his  lithe,  supple  figure  that  I  murmured  : 
"  A  real  Spaniard  indeed,  and  a  real  King  of  Spain." 


23* 


WILHELMINA   I.,   QUEEN    OF    1  HE   NETHERLANDS 


WILHELMINA  1.  QUEEN  OF  THE 
NETHERLANDS 

There  is  something  attractive  and  rather  pathetic 
about  the  fate  of  this  young  Queen,  destined  from  the 
very  hour  of  her  birth  to  embody  the  most  fervent 
wish  of  her  nation,  when  that  nation  had  little  ex- 
pected the  boon  of  possessing  a  direct  heir  or  heiress 
to  the  dynasty.  Long  before  the  author  of  Cyrano 
de  Bergerac  called  her  "  The  little  lily  Queen  who 
reigns  over  the  Kingdom  of  Tulips,"  she  was  to 
the  inhabitants  of  the  Netherlands  a  precious 
treasure  ;  poets  sang  and  fairies  wooed  her  long  before 
the  days  when  she  became  a  smiling,  girlish  bride, 
whose  hands  unlocked  themselves  from  a  bride- 
groom's clasp  in  order  to  beg  for  mercy  and  peace, 
who  stood  watching  with  anxious  eyes  for  the 
olive  branch  wafted  across  the  seas  from  the  land 
where  the  rush  and  din  of  battle  waged. 

It  is  well  known  that  after  the  death  of  his  first 
wife  and  of  his  son,  Queen  Wilhelmina's  father 
seemed  to  have  abandoned  all  ideas  of  a  second 
marriage,  and  his  subjects   mourned  to  think  that 

235 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

the  throne  of  Holland  would  find  no  successor  in 
the  direct  line.  Queen  Sophia,  born  Princess  of 
Wurtemberg,  was  a  very  amiable,  learned,  and  even 
somewhat  pedantic  Princess.  Her  chief  enjoyment 
lay  in  reading  and  travelling  about  from  place  to  place 
within  her  Kingdom,  poring  overall  the  old  volumes 
she  could  find  in  public  libraries.  Sometimes  she 
would  escape  from  the  solemnity  of  Court  eti- 
quette, and  go  to  spend  a  few  quiet  months  in  Paris, 
where  she  lived  the  existence  of  a  wealthy  bour- 
geoises insisting  that  no  homage  whatever  should  be 
paid  to  her,  entering  into  the  views  of  the  clever 
people  with  whom  she  associated,  and  always  being 
foremost  when  a  great  literary  discussion  was  astir. 
Her  dearest  ambition  was  to  gain  a  place  among  the 
distinguished  women  whose  hons  mots  still  found 
worshippers  after  their  death  ;  and  when  some  well- 
informed  courtier  or  friend  would  compare  her  with 
Madame  de  Stael,  Madame  du  DefFant  or  Madame 
GeofFrin,  she  thought  but  little  of  all  the  privileges 
conferred  by  rank.  Her  husband  approved  of  his 
wife'stastes — hewas  himself  avery  intellectual  Prince, 
and  had  learnt  the  art  of  dramatic  elocution  from 
the  celebrated  French  actor  Talma.  When  he 
received  a  Royal  visitor  or  a  member  of  his  family 
at  the  Palace,  the  King  was  unable  to  conceive 
any  greater  attention  to  bestow  on  his  guest  than 
the  favour  of  hearing  some  famous  piece  of  French 
tragedy  uttered  by  the  Royal  lips.  As  age  came  on, 
bringing  the  loss  of  teeth,  the  shrill  tones  exacted  by 

236 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

comical  or  pathetic  scenes  would  rise  to  a  howl,  the 
King's  eyes  would  roll  furiously ;  and  a  Royal  per- 
sonage who  had  been  favoured  with  a  representation 
told  me  how  severe  the  ordeal  proved  because  it  was 
so  difficult  on  these  occasions  to  forbear  from  laugh- 
ing, which  the  King  would  never  have  forgiven.  At 
the  end  of  the  recitations  he  would  add  :  "■  Power o 
Talma  !  He  always  said  to  me  that  had  I  not  been 
born  a  Prince,  I  would  have  proved  his  most  dan- 
gerous rival."  To  the  last  year  of  his  life  the 
late  King  of  Holland  kept  up  his  love  of  tragedy, 
and  often  the  courtiers  who,  trembling,  heard  him 
scream  aloud  through  the  vast  saloons  of  his 
palace  were  delighted  to  find  that  instead  of  the 
Royal  admonitions  they  feared  to  hear,  he  was  merely 
hurling  at  them  Corneille's  famous  "  Qu'il  mourut," 
or  the  story  of  Hippolyte's  last  day.  .  .  . 

Mirth  and  hope  at  his  Court  had  died  away  on  the 
death  of  the  King's  last  son.  The  nation  looked 
forward  only  to  a  continuation  of  these  gloomy  days 
till  their  monarch  in  his  turn  should  go  and  join  his 
Queen  and  his  children  in  the  Royal  vault  at  Delft. 
It  is  therefore  easy  to  imagine  with  what  joy  the 
news  of  a  second  marriage  was  hailed,  although  the 
prospect  seemed  unlikely  that  the  Royal  circle  might 
regain  its  former  brightness  and  confer  happiness 
again  upon  the  land. 

The  deep  attachment  that  the  Hollander  race  has 
ever  shown  to  the  dynasty  of  its  rulers  is  one  of  the 
most  admirable  traits  of  their  national  character,  and 

237 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

is  something  quite  apart  from  the  loyalty  extant  in 
many  other  countries.  In  Holland  the  sentiment  is 
more  one  of  honoured  affection  than  of  reverence ; 
in  each  member  of  the  Orange-Nassau  family  the 
people  have  recognised  their  favourite  hero,  onward 
from  the  Saviour  of  the  Netherlands,  the  Blest  Con- 
queror, their  own  William,  as  they  even  now  call 
him,  heedless  that  he  has  for  some  centuries  been 
laid  in  his  tomb.  The  love  they  bestow  upon  those 
who  still  bear  his  valorous  blood  in  their  veins  is  an 
eternal  thanksgiving  for  what  the  illustrious  stadt- 
holder  achieved. 

It  mattered  little  whether  the  King's  expected 
child  should  be  a  son  or  a  daughter ;  the  dynasty  was 
about  to  resume  its  unchecked  career ;  another 
descendant  of  the  great  William  of  Orange  was 
coming  to  claim  the  devotion  of  thousands.  Thus 
it  was  that  Wilhelmina  tasted  the  cup  of  popularity 
with  the  very  first  drop  of  milk  which  trembled  on 
her  infant  lips.  "  All  the  fairies  are  attending  her 
cradle  ;  she  is  going  to  receive  the  most  beautiful 
presents  the  fairies  can  bestow,"  cried  the  enthusiastic 
voice  of  the  multitude,  but  another  voice,  firm  and 
low,  seemed  to  answer  :  "  She  needs  not  the  presents 
of  fairies ;  her  people  will  pray  for  her  welfare  and 
these  prayers  must  prove  better  than  fairy  gifts  and 
praise."  These  words,  full  of  wisdom  and  tenderness, 
were  uttered  by  one  whose  name  will  ever  remain 
associated   with   Wilhelmina's    dazzling  fate,    by   a 

princess,  young  and  fair,  the  Royal  infant's  mother, 

238 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

who,  herself  still  almost  a  child,  was  delighted  and 
awed  when  the  Court  called  her,  "  Our  Queen,"  and 
whose  rosy  cheek  became  a  hue  redder  when  they 
said  :  "  Your  Majesty  !  "  in  answer  to  her  slightest 
question. 

Emma,  Princess  of  Waldeck-Pyrmont,  had  been 
brought  up  in  one  of  those  dear  old  German  castles 
where  imagination  can  feel  sure  of  meeting  the  ghosts 
of  loreleis  or  knights,  and  of  hearing  ballads  sung  at 
midnight  under  the  moon  as  it  pours  through  the 
windows  and  bastioned  towers.  The  pretty  Princess 
dreamt  neither  of  foreign  lands  nor  thrones  ;  she 
enjoyed  her  life,  almost  rustic  in  its  simplicity,  yet 
highly  aristocratic  in  the  way  of  breeding  ;  she  learnt 
to  use  the  distaff  and  the  spindle,  to  paint  beautiful 
pictures  on  the  margin  of  manuscripts  and  prayer- 
books,  to  worship  God's  children  in  every  creature 
unfortunate  or  poor  that  she  met  around  the  castle's 
gates  or  in  the  park.  Such  was  the  bride  that  the 
aged  King  of  Holland  had  chosen  for  himself  among 
all  the  Princesses  who  would  willingly  have  accepted 
the  offer  of  being  his  Queen.  Princess  Emma  was 
only  nineteen  at  the  time  she  heard  the  King's 
proposal  from  her  mother's  mouth.  .  .  .  She  cried 
bitterly  .   .   . 

"  And  do  you  want  me  to  accept  him  ...  do 
you  order  me  to  do  so  ? "  .  .   . 

"  No,  no,  dear,  dear  child,  that  is  left  completely 

to  your  own  choice,  only  the  King   is  lonely  and 

unhappy.   ..." 

*39 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

"Unhappy?  .  .  ."  and  the  sobbing  face  became 
lovelier  than  usual,  illumined  by  a  smile  of  compas- 
sion and  sudden  interest.  When  she  had  heard  the 
whole  tale,  she  said  :  "  I  will  go  to  him  and  to  them  " 
— meaning  her  future  subjects.  "  And. I  will  do  my 
duty  to  them  all,  so  help  me  God  !  " 

How  well  the  fair  Princess  kept  her  promise  is 
now  clear  to  all  eyes.  She  soon  stood  high  in  the 
favour  of  her  husband  and  of  all  the  nation,  who 
looked  up  to  her  and  admired  her  gentle  visage,  but 
her  demeanour  remained  as  modest  and  quiet  as 
before  her  marriage.  And  she  proved  the  best 
mother  that  Wilhelmina's  best  friends  could  have 
asked  Providence  to  endow  her  with.  Queen  Emma's 
task  was  by  no  means  an  easy  one.  The  child  was 
petted  by  her  father,  and  adored  by  all  who 
approached  her ;  the  nation  idolised  the  heiress  to 
the  throne,  and  universal  approval  smiled  upon  her 
every  movement,  her  every  step.  The  King  forbade 
his  wife  to  thwart  the  little  girl's  early  caprices  ;  and 
Wilhelmina  seemed  to  have  inherited  from  her 
glorious  ancestors  no  small  portion  of  their  energy 
and  natural  wilfulness,  which  she  was  always  ready  to 
show  off,  since  every  trait  of  the  Orange  tempera- 
ment exhibited  by  the  young  Princess  drew  forth 
outbursts  of  enthusiasm,  genuine  though  imprudent. 
Her  defects  were  as  much  praised  as  her  qualities, 
because  they  represented  all  the  splendid  vitality  of 
her  race. 

Against   these    defects    Queen    Emma    did    not 

240 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

endeavour  to  wage  open  war.  She  interfered  very 
little,  even  when  one  of  the  child's  whims  was  instantly 
complied  with  by  her  father,  but  her  presence,  silent 
and  grave,  sometimes  weighed  with  the  sensitiveness 
of  Wilhelmi  a's  conscience  more  heavily  than  the 
hardest  rebuke.  The  rash  girl  would  turn  from  the 
eyes  that  looked  tenderly  upon  her  to  read  nothing 
but  disapproval  and  regret  in  her  mother's  looks,  and 
would  burst  into  tears,  saying :  "  I  am  naughty, 
mamma  says  so  with  her  eyes  ! "  No  one  can  well 
imagine  or  recount  how  moving  and  arduous  was 
this  mute  interference,  how  much  Queen  Emma  had 
to  thank  her  own  severe  training  for  having  given 
her  habits  of  discipline  and  fortitude.  An  anecdote, 
among  many  others  that  I  know,  will  prove  to  what 
extent  her  ability  was  put  forth  to  help  her  child 
and  save  her  from  the  snares  that  render  a  spoilt 
girl  harmful  to  herself  and  others,  the  more  so  if 
that  girl  be  destined  to  become  a  ruler  of  men. 

Wilhelmina  is  endowed  with  the  gift  of  obser- 
vation— nothing  escapes  her  quick  eye.  But  the 
ready  tact  which  is  an  instinct  prominent  in  Royal 
blood  often  prevented  her  from  giving  utterance  to 
the  result  of  her  vivid  impressions.  The  Queen 
well  knew  when  this  quality  was  at  work  in  the 
young  soul,  because  then  Wilhelmina  proved  restless 
and  feverish — seemed  to  struggle  with  the  desire  of 
speaking  and  the  fear  of  doing  something  against 
her  own  opinion  of  good  behaviour.     One  day  she 

brusquely  asked  the  Queen  :   "  Mamma,  tell  me  how 

241  p 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

old  are  you  ?  "  The  Queen,  who  had  at  that  time 
scarcely  reached  her  thirtieth  year,  complied  with 
the  request  ;  she  then  saw  Wilhelmina  walk  rapidly 
to  and  fro  and  make  some  very  serious  calculation  on 
the  tip  of  her  fingers,  "  How  old  is  papa,  mother  ?  " 
"  Over  seventy."  "  Poor  papa  !  But,  mother,  how 
happy  he  must  feel  to  have  such  a  pretty  young  wife 
as  you  are,  and  such  a  little  girl  as  I  am  !  And  how 
I  thank  you  for  loving  and  tending  papa,  although  he 
is  old.  To  me  papa  is  young  and  handsome,  but 
may-be  he  really  looks  old  to  others  and  even  to 
you."  "  Oh  !  do  not  repeat  this  conversation  to 
your  father,  darling.  You  see  now  that  I  never 
scold  you  in  his  presence,  because  old  people  do  not 
know  when  little  girls  are  naughty,  and  should  he 
discover  me  to  be  displeased  with  you,  he  would 
become  older  still.  .  .  ."  "  Would  he  ?  Oh!  how 
dreadful !  Then,  mamma,  do  go  on  hiding  all  about 
me  from  him.  I  will  try  not  to  be  naughty,  but 
when  I  cannot  help  myself,  be  prudent,  mamma. 
Only  think,  he  is  over  seventy  already.   .   .   ." 

And  from  that  day,  when  Wilhelmina  was  en- 
couraged by  the  King  in  her  petty  freaks,  she  would 
turn  an  imploring  eye  upon  the  Queen,  and,  winking 
with  a  knowing  air,  put  her  tiny  fingers  upon  her 
mouth. 

Still  the  habit  of  command  took  complete  hold  of 
her  nature,  and  Queen  Emma  resolutely  turned  over 
another  leaf  in  the  book  of  practical  education  to  be 
given  to  a  future  Queen.     She  determined  to  keep 

2. 1-2 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

the  pure,  tumultuous  soul  aloof  from  the  abundance 
of  temptations  that  enveloped  its  dawn,  to  guard  the 
true  heart  against  the  adulation  and  applause  aroused 
by  the  child's  slightest  action.  Such  indulgence 
would  in  the  long  run  mar  the  inward  harmony, 
turn  aside  the  current  of  serious  thought,  and  render 
Wilhelmina  a  danger  to  those  who  most  relied  upon 
her.  And  she  found  a  judicious  if  strange  means 
of  effecting  this.  Instead  of  trying  to  deprive  her 
of  any  of  the  joys  she  coveted,  the  Queen  allowed 
her  daughter  to  wear  jewels,  costly  dresses,  pearls, 
and  gaudy  costumes  like  any  grown-up  lady ;  to 
indulge  in  all  the  greedy  wishes  of  childhood ;  to  see 
piles  of  toys  heaped  up  in  her  nursery  ;  to  run  about 
with  her  dogs  as  much  as  she  pleased,  till  Wilhel- 
mina slowly  got  tired  of  all  that  wealth  could  give. 
Such  things  she  came  to  understand  would  always  be 
hers.  She  thrust  the  jewels  and  the  toys  aside  ;  she 
disdained  dress  and  costly  array  ;  she  sought  what 
every  craving  creature,  every  noble-minded  nature 
is  athirst  after  ;  she  looked  into  the  souls  and  lives 
of  those  surrounded  her.  Pomp  and  luxury  became 
vain  words  in  her  ears ;  she  knew  that  she  would 
have  to  put  up  with  them  all  her  life,  but  they  no 
longer  played  any  active  part  in  her  existence.  To 
some  of  her  relatives,  who  raised  their  eyebrows  when 
they  saw  Princess  Wilhelmina  wearing  a  heavy  neck- 
lace of  jewels  worth  the  ransom  of  a  rajah,  the  Queen 
replied  : 

"  She   must    get  accustomed   to   these  jewels,  so 

H3 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

that  she  may  try  to  discover  others  more  precious 
in  her  own  soul.  I  do  not  want  her  when  she  is 
grown  up  to  pounce  with  avidity  upon  all  the  beau- 
tiful objects  of  luxury  she  can  get  so  easily.  1  want 
her  then  to  be  free  from  what  other  girls  dream 
about,  because  her  dreaming  will  be  of  more  import- 
ance than  the  common  dreams  of  girlhood.  .  .  . 
Then  Wilhelmina  will  love  her  duty  because  the 
austere  side  of  life  will  prove  more  attractive  to  one 
who  has  learned  to  grasp  at  the  real  meaning  of 
human  efforts  and  aims." 

Notwithstanding  all  her  mother's  efforts,  the 
child's  strong  will  still  manifested  itself  on  many 
occasions ;  the  little  Princess  could  not  lose  entire 
consciousness  of  her  rank  and  her  rights.  Any 
attempt  to  veil  her  personality  under  the  disguise 
of  an  incognita  enraged  her,  and  she  thought  this 
habit,  current  with  sovereigns,  to  be  a  kind  of 
humiliation,  and  a  dreadful  blow  given  to  truth. 
Wilhelmina  hates  falsehood  in  words  as  well  as  in 
action.  The  necessity  or  convenience  of  travelling 
incognita  she  failed  to  comprehend. 

At  nine  years  of  age,  during  her  sojourn  with  her 
maternal  aunt,  the  old  Princess  of  Wied,  Queen 
Emma  sent  the  young  heiress  to  the  Hollander 
throne  on  a  few  hours'  trip  with  a  little  cousin  and 
their  respective  governesses.  Deeming  official  pomp 
inadvisable  in  the  circumstances,  she  told  the  ladies 
who  accompanied  the  children  to  travel  exactly  like 
all  the  tourists  they  should  meet  on  the  banks  of 

244 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  1 

the  Rhine,  and  not  to  betray  the  real  quality  of  the 
small  personages  under  their  charge.  "  If  the  people 
were  to  know  my  daughter,"  said  the  Queen,  "  your 
journey  would  be  spoiled,  and,  besides,  we  should 
have  to  order  special  trains,  lose  a  good  deal  of  time, 
and  you  could  not  be  back  before  late  evening.  So 
be  very  careful,  and  do  not  allow  Wilhelmina  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  any  one — she  would 
immediately  say  who  she  is.  ..." 

The  ladies  promised  to  obey,  and  at  the  beginning 
of  the  excursion  all  went  ojff  very  well.  The  little 
Princesses  enjoyed  themselves  immensely,  and  as  the 
party  numbered  several  persons  they  contrived  to 
have  a  carriage  to  themselves  till  they  reached  a 
small  station  where  they  had  to  alight  and  wait  for 
another  train.  This  incident,  and  the  necessity  of 
awaiting  on  the  platform  the  arrival  of  a  train,  which 
was  completely  new  to  her,  puzzled  Wilhelmina 
immensely.  Some  suspicion  of  the  truth  began  to 
dawn  upon  her.  She  had  never  in  her  life  left  a 
carriage  before  arriving  at  her  destination,  where  she 
would  be  greeted  by  hundreds  of  eager  faces.     But 

now !     She  poured  angry  questions  on  the  ladies 

who  accompanied  them.  *'  What  is  amiss,  is  there 
an  accident  ?  "  Her  gowvernante  felt  embarrassed. 
"  No,  Princess — only  the  train  is  rather  late,  I  am 
sorry  to  say.  .  .  .".  But  she  had  not  time  to  finish 
her  sentence.  Quick  as  lightning  Wilhelmina  had 
darted  to  the  spot  where  the  station-master  stood, 
and  addressing  him  in  sharp,  peremptory  tones,  said  : 

245 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I   HAVE  KNOWN 

*'  I  am  afraid,  sir,  that  you  are  negligent  in  your 
service.  1  am  much  displeased,  and  I  am  not  accus- 
tomed to  wait.  If  it  is  thus  when  I  am  one  of  the 
travellers  on  this  line,  how  much  must  others  have 
to  complain  !  Please  take  care  that  this  does  not 
happen  another  time." 

The  station-master  stood  aghast.  There  was  some- 
thing so  peremptory,  so  dignified,  so  self-confi- 
dent in  the  tones  of  the  little  girl  that  he  instinc- 
tively took  off  his  hat.  "I  am  the  Princess  of  the 
Netherlands,  sole  heiress  to  the  throne,"  added  the 
child  with  a  proud  toss  of  her  fair  head.  "  But  I 
forgive  you,"  and  she  gave  the  bewildered  man  her 
hand  to  kiss,  while  the  ladies  who  had  from  afar 
watched  the  scene,  rushed  up,  though  feeling  them- 
selves unable  to  thwart  her. 

When  the  train  dashed  into  the  station,  Wilhel- 
mina  with  royal  demeanour  stepped  into  a  carriage, 
and  the  incident  having  been  related  on  all  sides,  she 
was  respectfully  cheered  and  saluted  by  the  crowd 
while  she  stood  at  the  window  graciously  waving  her 
handkerchief  to  them.  The  rest  of  the  journey 
became  a  real  royal  progress.  "  Do  not  be  angry 
with  me,  mamma,"  said  Wilhelmina  when  Queen 
Emma,  hearing  all  about  her  daughter's  rash  con- 
duct, was  inclined  to  chide.  "  You  see  we  must  not 
cheat  those  who  meet  us  out  of  the  pleasure  they 
derive  from  the  mere  fact  of  winning  smiles  and 
nods  from  us.  If  we  cannot  do  more  for  them  we  can 

at  least  bestow  our  presence  upon  them.      I  am  sure 

24.6 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

that  station-master  and  all  the  tourists  are  happy 
because  I  spoke  to  them  or  saluted  them,  whereas 
had  I  been  completely  obedient  what  would  they 
remember  now  of  the  little  girl  who  took  a  trip  on 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine  !...." 

The  death  of  the  King  proved  a  great  blow  to  the 
maturing  nature  of  his  much  loved  little  girl.  My 
father,  who  had  the  honour  of  representing  his 
Sovereign  at  the  royal  funeral,  often  recalls  how  when 
paying  his  official  visit  to  kind  and  gentle  Queen 
Emma,  he  was  moved  by  the  woe-stricken  face  and 
red  eyes  of  the  new  little  Queen  as  he  met  her  young 
Majesty  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  Palace. 

Queen  Emma  was  then  in  the  prime  of  woman- 
hood and  honoured  by  all  for  her  wisdom  and 
graciousness.  To  me  her  features  are  familiar,  as 
well  as  her  heart,  and  I  have  always  heard  her  praised 
in  our  home,  because  we  learned  to  know,  during  our 
parents'  stay  in  Holland,  all  the  beautiful  qualities 
of  a  firm,  straightforward  nature.  While  her  mother 
was  daily  learning  to  unravel  the  mysteries  of  a 
statesman's  duty,  little  Queen  Wilhelmina  became 
more  and  more  absorbed  in  her  lessons  ;  she  worked 
hard  from  dawn  to  twilight,  and  as  she  already  spoke 
French,  German,  and  English  fluently,  she  was  taught 
the  history  of  all  these  nations  in  their  own  language 
The  philosophy  of  history  was  the  branch  of  study 
that  Queen  Emma  was  most  anxious  her  young 
daughter  should  know,  and  they  often  discussed 
together  the  thrilling  incidents  and  characters  whose 

247 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

appearance  mid  the  pages  of  her  school-room  books 
made  the  Princess's  cheeks  glow  and  her  eyes  shine. 
On  these  occasions  Queen  Emma  always  found  means 
to  illustrate  the  past  with  examples  from  the  present, 
and  then  very  subtly  she  would  initiate  the  future 
Sovereign  of  the  realm  into  the  secrets  of  modern 
diplomacy  and  the  laws  and  constitution  of  her 
country.  In  this  special  study  Queen  Wilhelmina 
also  had  many  professors,  who  at  first  felt  quite 
embarrassed  in  talking  of  such  serious  matters  to  a 
mere  child;  but  they  soon  understood  that  the  little 
girl  had  been  reared  in  an  atmosphere  of  serious 
thought  and  labour,  and  noted  how  rapidly  she  fol- 
lowed them  through  the  intricacies  of  their  science. 

Her  subjects  were  well  aware  that  their  beloved 
little  Queen  was  toiling  hard  in  order  to  be  able  to 
rule  them  one  day  with  care  and  ability,  but  it  always 
brought  them  a  joyful  relief  to  see  her  sauntering 
gaily  through  the  streets  of  The  Hague  by  the  side 
of  her  English  governess.  Miss  Winter.  When  Miss 
Winter  first  took  her  pupil  under  her  guidance 
(Miss  Winter  enjoyed  Queen  Emma's  full  confidence, 
justified  it,  and  to  this  day  is  treated  like  a  friend  by 
both  the  Queens)  she  had  great  hesitation  as  to 
the  title  by  which  she  should  call  her  Royal  pupil. 
A  too  ceremonious  title  was  completely  out  ot 
the  question,  and  on  the  other  side  Miss  Winter 
declared  she  might  feel  awkward  or  discourteous 
were  she  obliged  to  call  the  Queen  by  her  name. 

Wilhelmina  herself  found  a  solution  to  the  prob- 

248 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

lem.     "  Call  me  darling^''  said  she,  "  and  I  hope  to 
deserve  the  name." 

Every  one  knows  how  proudly  the  Hollander 
nation  watched  the  childish  Queen  bloom  into 
charming  girlhood  till  that  day,  blessed  among  all 
days,  when  she  took  the  solemn  oath  to  be  a 
good  Queen  to  them.  "  I  have  prayed  two  nights 
and  two  days  before  my  coronation,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina,  "  I  hope  God  will  help  me.  I  have  not 
asked  from  Heaven  anything  for  myself.  I  have 
asked  the  Almighty  to  send  happiness  to  my 
people  through  me."  In  such  a  chastened  spirit 
she  approached  the  holy  table  and  stretched  out 
her  little  hand  across  the  big  Bible,  with  a  clear,  dis- 
tinct voice  pronouncing  the  sacred  vow. 

Court  etiquette  is  very  severe  in  Holland,  and 
Queen  Wilhelmina  desires  that  it  should  be  main- 
tained thus.  She  holds  that  the  democratisation  of 
monarchy  only  can  prevail  when  sovereigns  open 
their  souls  to  new  ideas  and  not  their  Courts  to  new 
customs,  and  though  she  leads  a  very  quiet  private 
life,  pomp  and  ceremony  are  never  forgotten  when 
the  moment  comes  for  her  to  appear  in  public.  She 
often  says  that  to  respect  traditions  is  an  indirect  but 
true  manner  of  honouring  the  dead  who  have  created 
them  through  centuries  of  toil  and  labour. 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  a  love-marriage,"  said  she 
to  her  mother  when  approached  on  this  subject,  to 
which  her  own  thoughts  had  never  before  reverted. 
"  Although  I  have  already  made  a  love-match — I 

249 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

mean  my  deep  union  with  my  people — I  should  like 
to  marry  a  young  Prince,  like  the  princes  of  ballads 
and  fairy  tales." 

*'  Life  is  neither  a  ballad  nor  a  fairy  tale,"  answered 
her  mother.  *'  But  you  will  be  allowed  to  choose, 
and  if  your  choice  is  a  good  one " 

Prince  Henry  of  Mecklenburg-Schwerin  is  a  dis- 
tant relative  of  the  young  Queen's  relatives,  and  the 
two  had  often  met.  Wilhelmina's  heart,  perhaps 
unwittingly,  already  clung  to  his  image,  and  it  was 
his  name  she  pronounced  first  when  asked  to  speak 
out  her  desires.  As  in  Queen  Victoria's  case, 
Wilhelmina  had  to  act  in  an  open  and  independent 
way,  but  she  knew  well  the  nation  would  approve 
her  decision,  because  they  had  placed  all  their  con- 
fidence in  her.  So  the  news  of  her  betrothal  was 
hailed  in  every  Hollander  home  as  if  the  daughter  of 
each  family  had  become  a  bride,  and  every  one  talked 
of  her  happy  look  when  she  went  to  meet  her 
future  husband  on  the  day  of  his  arrival  and  of 
his  tender  gaze  as  it  settled  on  the  bashful  young 
Queen.  "  May  her  hearth  be  a  happy  one,  may 
little  children  soon  gather  round  her  knees."  This 
was  the  wish  uttered  by  every  tongue  on  the  brilliant 
wedding-day  when  the  gentle  wife  took  the  place  of 
the  radiant  Queen, 

Queen  Wilhelmina  is  middle-sized,  and  very 
graceful  in  gait  and  demeanour,  though  somewhat 
inclined  to  grow  stout.  Hers  is  a  very  childish  face, 
where  the  big,  deep  blue  eyes   alone  denote  serious 

2^o 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

reflection  and  inward  strength.  Her  conversational 
powers  are  excellent,  though  she  cannot  be  called  a 
great  talker.  But  she  knows  how  to  draw  people 
out,  and  without  questioning  she  has  the  knack 
of  learning  all  she  wants  to  know.  One  sees  that 
she  struggles  hard  to  keep  her  dignity  above  the 
genuineness  of  her  nature  and  to  prevent  her 
young  soul  from  over-leaping  the  limits  assigned 
to  the  amiability  of  a  Queen.  She  is  well  read  in 
English  literature  and  loves  America,  as  she  feels  for 
that  mighty  Republic  a  sentiment  of  curiosity  mingled 
with  admiration.  "  American  girls  are  so  pretty  and 
they  look  so  feminine  that,  were  ultra-femininism  to 
invade  all  the  world,  the  grace  and  power  of  our  sex 
would  be  saved  by  them." 

She  was  quite  charmed  with  Kruger  because  he 
did  not  look  awed  by  the  mere  fact  of  approaching  a 
Queen,  as  most  people  generally  are,  thus  making  the 
poor  Queens  and  Princesses  much  more  uncomfort- 
able than  their  interviewers.  She  likes  to  receive 
as  many  people  as  possible  and  then  to  recount  their 
conversation  and  describe  their  looks  to  her  husband, 
asking  him  to  do  the  same  thing  in  his  turn,  as  they 
generally  give  their  audiences  apart,  then  meet  and 
take  tea  together  before  going  out  for  a  daily  drive 
in  state.  Queen  Wilhelmina  is  not  in  any  degree 
sentimental  ;  her  every  word  betrays  perfect  insight 
into  events  and  facts  as  they  are,  and  her  most 
strenuous  elffbrts  are  made  towards  acquiring  a  hold 
over  the  imaginative  qualities  which  so  often  become 

2sl 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

defects  in  women  compelled   to  act  a  leading  part  in 
politics  and  society. 

She  prefers  nature  to  art  and  loves  a  gorgeous  land- 
scape much  better  than  the  rare  and  valuable  pic- 
tures she  possesses,  on  account  of  which  the  Royal 
Palace  in  The  Hague  might  well  be  called  a 
museum.  In  that  palace  she  suffers  nothing  to  be 
changed ;  even  when  a  chair  is  moved  from  its  right 
palace  her  eye  is  afflicted,  whereas  in  her  own  apart- 
ment much  apparent  disorder  seems  to  reign,  a  dis- 
order which,  as  Boileau  says,  is  "  un  effet  de  Tart." 
Her  love  for  her  native  country  is  so  strong  that 
when  travelling  in  Italy,  and  later  in  the  South  of 
France,  she  would  never  fully  allow  that  the  scenery 
she  saw  was  beautiful  unless  she  had  said  beforehand  : 
"  Excepting  Holland,  this  place  is  one  of  the  pretti- 
est I  have  gazed  upon,"  and  when  away  from  home 
she  pined  after  The  Hague,  Scheveningen,  and  Het 
Loo. 

In  every  way  does  Queen  Wilhelmina  deserve  the 
love  of  her  devoted  subjects.  She  is  like  the  flower 
of  their  soil  and  their  history,  like  the  very  emblem 
of  a  loyal  and  valiant  country  ;  a  gentle  face  wherein 
good  spirits  and  excellent  health  combine  to  make  a 
sweet  physiognomy ;  she  is  a  Queen,  strong  yet 
gentle,  as  all  reigning  Queens  should  be.  The  dis- 
tance is  immense  which  separates  a  Queen  Consort 
from  a  Queen  in  her  own  right :  Wilhelmina  is  the 
real  type  of  what  a  reigning  Queen  should  be.  She 
is  in  many  points  very  difi^erent  from  Queen  Victoria, 

252 


QUEEN  WILHELMINA  I 

nor  does  she  dream  of  taking  the  great  Queen  as  a 
model,  because,  as  a  strong-wilJed  Princess,  she 
loves  to  tread  a  path  all  her  own,  and  she  cares  only 
to  represent  her  own  race  and  her  own  people. 

She  is  not — and  now  I  must  again  refer  to  Rostand 
— "  a  lily  reigning  over  tulips  :  "  she  is  herself  a  tulip, 
stalwart  and  splendid,  whose  high  stem  and  bright 
colours  shed  their  glory  over  the  whole  realm. 


253 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

In  the  awful  light  of  the  most  appalling  drama, 
not  excepting  that  of  Meyerling,  which  has  been 
played  in  Royal  houses  for  more  than  two  centuries, 
the  hitherto  insignificant  personalities  of  King 
Alexander  of  Servia  and  his  Consort  Queen  Draga 
make  instant  appeal  to  our  imagination.  The  lurid 
glow  of  disaster  and  blood  now  illumines  their 
memory,  and  in  time,  far  from  sinking  into  the 
oblivion  which  might  have  enshrouded  them  had 
they  died  a  natural  and  peaceful  death,  they  will  join 
those  victims  of  fatality  whose  stories  are  the  most 
thrilling  in  history  or  romance.  They  will  sit  side 
by  side  with  Macbeth  at  the  haunted  supper-table, 
with  Hamlet  on  the  terrace  of  Elsinore,  with 
Richard  III.  in  the  supreme  battlefield,  with  CEdipus, 
Jocasta,  and  Hecuba,  on  the  heights  of  a  terrible 
destiny — so  terrible  that  all  their  faults  will  be 
obliterated  by  the  greatness  of  their  sufferings  and 
the  horror  of  their  last  moments  upon  earth. 

Belgrade  is  situated  in  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
landscapes  in  the  world.  The  Danube  and  the  Save 
join  below  the  town,  which,  by  people  accustomed  to 

255 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

our  Occidental  cities,  might  easily  be  called  a  village, 
although  here  and  there  large  modern  houses  rise 
from  the  midst  of  huts  and  modest  buildings. 
Dwellings  whose  strange  aspect  defies  every  attempt 
at  description,  straggling  cottages  adorned  with  low 
wooden  balconies,  line  the  streets,  where  dust,  dogs, 
and  pigs  are  more  abundant  than  passers-by,  and 
seem  more  masters  of  the  place  than  any  human 
creature.  Here  and  there  a  low-roofed  church 
adorned  with  rough  and  vivid  paintings,  a  large 
courtyard  teeming  with  poultry,  oxen,  and  domestic 
animals,  or  an  upholsterer's  tiny  shop,  cuts  the  line 
of  other  buildings.  Upholsterers  are  more  numerous 
in  Belgrade  than  in  any  other  town — at  any  rate, 
they  seem  here  to  play  a  more  conspicuous  part — and 
the  striking  feature  of  the  work  they  achieve  is 
shown  in  the  immense  number  of  coffins  exposed  to 
public  view.  These  by  no  means  contribute  to 
delights  of  the  eye,  and  it  is  with  a  feeling  akin  to 
relief  that,  as  the  driver  hurries  the  jostled  carriage 
along  the  rough  pavement  in  a  glory  of  silvery  dust, 
one  comes  upon  the  sight  of  trees  and  grass  and 
water. 

The  park  of  Topschideri,  a  beautifully  wild  garden, 
almost  as  rich  and  wild  as  the  famous  Paradon  de- 
scribed by  Zola,  was  the  witness  of  a  tragedy  which 
happened  in  the  Obrenovitch  family.  It  was  in  these 
woods  that  the  predecessor  of  King  Milan  was 
murdered.  It  appears  that  this  Prince  had  given 
great  offence  to  the  Servians  by  his  projected  marriage 

256 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

with  Catherine  Constantinovitch.  This  lady  was  his 
first  cousin,  and  the  Orthodox  religion  strictly  for- 
bids such  unions.  The  Prince,  determined  to  brave 
public  opinion,  took  his  bride  for  a  drive  among 
these  woods  and  was  there  assassinated  by  a  band  of 
conspirators.  They  also  wounded  Catherine  Con- 
stantinovitch, but  not  seriously,  for  she  afterwards 
recovered  and  ultimately  married  a  wealthy  Servian. 
She  still  resides  in  Belgrade,  and  the  recent  tragic 
death  of  King  Alexander  and  his  Queen  must  have 
brought  vividly  to  her  mind  the  romantic  circum- 
stances and  terrible  end  of  her  first  betrothal. 

Prince  Milan,  the  nephew  of  the  murdered  Sove- 
reign, succeeded  to  the  throne  left  vacant  by  the 
tragic  end  of  an  idyll  whose  circumstances  are  still 
alive  in  the  minds  of  the  Servians  and  are  yet  sung 
by  their  poets. 

King  Milan's  father  was  an  officer  in  the  Rou- 
manian army — a  tall,  handsome,  swaggering,  kind- 
hearted,  and  good-natured  soul,  who  was  not  very 
well  off,  and  never  dreamt  that  his  son  would  one 
day  be  a  King,  as  his  first  cousin,  Miloch,  was 
always  expected  to  have  an  heir.  In  the  meanwhile 
Captain  Miloch  Obrenovitch,  a  cavalry  officer  in  the 
Roumanian  army,  had  married  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  women  who  ever  existed — Mile.  Marie 
Catargi.  Marie  Catargi  belonged  to  a  good,  though 
neither  illustrious  nor  very  ancient,  Roumanian 
family.  She  represented  the  finest  type  of  Moldavian 
beauty,  and  the  classical  purity  of  her  features,  the 

257  Q 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

wondrous  colour  and  expression  of  her  large  green 
eyes,  the  graceful  poise  of  her  small  head,  and  the 
sweetness  of  her  manner,  are  still  alive  in  the  conver- 
sation of  such  of  her  surviving  contemporaries  as 
knew  her. 

It  happened  that  during  the  earliest  years  of  my 
childhood  I  heard  King  Milan's  name  so  often  that 
he  became  quite  a  familiar  personage  with  me  long 
before  I  met  him.  We  had  had  the  same  governess. 
Our  Scotch  instructress.  Miss  Allen,  had,  many  years 
before  coming  to  us,  superintended  his  education  in 
the  Roumanian  home  of  his  mother  and  maternal 
grandmother.  Thus  tales  of  his  natural  vivacity  and 
boisterous  habits,  of  his  kind  and  generous  heart, 
were  daily  related  to  us,  while  our  schoolroom  walls 
were  covered  with  portraits  of  Prince  Milan  in  his 
first  boy's  dress,  of  King  Milan  at  the  age  of  eight  in 
top  boots,  of  King  Milan  in  Servian  costume,  and, 
finally,  in  the  uniform  of  a  Servian  general.  But 
Miss  Allen  had  left  him  at  an  early  age,  and  he  then 
passed  into  the  hands  of  professors.  He  was  quick- 
witted, handsome,  and  clever,  but  very  much  spoilt ; 
well  aware,  besides,  that  his  destiny  was  not  to  be 
like  that  of  his  cousins.  One  day  we  were  walking 
in  the  streets  of  Bucharest — Miss  Allen  and  myself. 
I  was  then  a  girl  of  about  thirteen,  in  all  the  bash- 
ful glory  of  dawning  teens,  and  thinking  little  of  the 
fact  that  my  governess's  former  pupil  was  then 
paying  a  visit  to  our  country  and  our  King,  when 
the  whirl  of  a  long  row  of  carriages,  the  patter  of 

258 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

hoofs,  the  glittering  array  of  a  cavalry  escort  at- 
tracted our  attention.  We  were  in  front  of  the 
palace,  and,  as  is  usual  on  such  occasions,  a  crowd  of 
curious  gazers  had  assembled  to  see  the  Royal  guest 
enter.  King  Milan's  equipage  stopped  in  front  of 
the  flight  of  steps,  and  he  seemed  about  to  enter  the 
palace,  when  all  at  once  he  turned  abruptly  round, 
pushed  aside  the  throng  of  officers  gathered  near  him, 
and,  making  his  way  towards  us,  bowed  and  said, 
*'  Are  you  not  Miss  Allen .''  I  am  sure  you  are.  I 
could  not  mistake  your  face,  even  after  so  many 
years.  I  have  never  forgotten  you  and  how  you 
took  me  to  Baneaza,  and  how  I  clung  to  you  because 
they  had  told  me  such  terrible  wolf  stories,  and  T  was 
so  afraid  the  wolf  would  come  and  spring  upon  me." 

King  Milan  was  tall,  robust,  broad-shouldered, 
and  as  he  spoke  his  young  face  flushed,  while  between 
the  sentences  he  bit  his  lips  and  scarcely  waited  for 
an  answer.  The  white  feather  of  his  high  military 
casque  threw  a  soft  shadow  on  his  face — there  were 
fun,  good-humour  and  happiness  in  his  eyes.  This 
was  my  first  vision  of  him ;  and  later  on,  amid 
rumours  of  his  dashing  career,  his  imprudent  actions, 
his  growing  cruelty  and  love  of  money,  I  could  but 
think  of  him  as  I  had  seen  him  that  day,  doing  one 
of  those  little  acts  of  spontaneous  kindness  and 
courtesy  which  cast  a  lustre  on  a  monarch's  life  more 
surely  than  other  more  brilliant  deeds. 

The  second  time  I  met  King  Alexander's  father 
was  in  Carlsbad,  the  very  year  before  his  death.     So 

259 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

much  of  the  glamour  and  joy  of  youth  had  died  out 
of  his  features  and  bearing  that  I  should  never  have 
recognised  him  had  not  my  parents,  with  whom  he 
was  well  acquainted,  and  who  had  often  spoken  to 
me  of  his  charm  of  manner,  pointed  out  to  me  the 
still  stalwart  figure  as  he  walked  towards  us  between 
the  trees  of  the  park,  where  we  were  seated,  taking 
our  afternoon  cafe  au  lait^  as  is  the  habit  in  Bohemia. 
He  approached,  and,  in  a  quiet,  smiling  way,  imme- 
diately asked  to  be  introduced  to  me.  He  began  a 
conversation  on  literature  and  art  in  which,  after 
some  remarks  which  showed  that  the  King  was  a 
keen  connoisseur  of  books,  especially  poetry,  the 
talk  quickly  turned  on  more  particular  topics,  on  the 
politics  of  our  respective  countries,  and  finally  on 
the  tedium  of  the  life  of  a  King.  With  a  short 
ironical  laugh  he  alluded  to  all  the  shams  and  tricks 
of  the  position,  saying :  "  You  cannot  imagine  how 
delighted  I  should  feel  to  be  perfectly  free.  It  has 
always  been  my  dream  to  lead  an  independent  life, 
and  I  have  enough  Roumanian  blood  in  my  veins  to 
have  even  regretted  not  being  able  to  live  in  gay  and 
lively  Bucharest,  and  to  roll  through  its  populous 
streets  at  the  brisk  pace  of  your  excellent  horses.  I 
shall  never  be  rid  of  the  trouble  and  annoyance  which 
are  brought  upon  an  individual  by  his  connection 
with  a  throne,  even  now  that  I  have  succeeded  in 
getting  rid  of  my  position.  I  shall  always  be  tied 
to  it  because  of  Sacha — I  mean  my  son,  the  King." 
His  voice  softened,  and  the  twinkle  in  the  pleasant 

260 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

eye  grew  tender.  "  He  is  a  clever  boy,  but  as  short- 
sighted mentally  as  he  is  in  the  material  sense — and 
he  is  almost  blind,  you  know.  He  has  to  use  the 
strongest  glasses  you  can  think  of.  He  is  too  good 
— he  loves  to  trust  people — he  hates  to  distrust, 
which  I  do  not ;  and  in  our  Servian  realm  I  would 
not  trust  any  man  when  he  had  once  crossed  my 
threshold,  even  though  he  were  my  best  friend. 
Then  Sacha  has  been  brought  up  in  such  a  singular 
way ;  so  spoilt  on  the  one  hand,  so  roughly  treated 
on  the  other.  It  was  somewhat  hard  on  him  to  be 
deprived  first  of  his  mother,  then  of  myself — un 
orphelin  artificiel  (an  artificial  orphan)  I  sometimes 
call  him,  poor  little  one.  But  the  people  love  him 
well.  They  have  seen  him  grow  up  under  their  eyes, 
they  have  watched  him  as  he  became  every  day  more 
like  them  and  less  like  me.  Faugh  !  What  a  life 
would  be  his  if  he  knew,  as  I  do,  how  one  is  obliged 
to  keep  awake  for  nights  together — to  plan,  to  un- 
ravel intrigues ! " 

For  a  few  seconds  King  Milan's  good-humoured 
smile  vanished,  his  eyes  took  on  a  more  hawkish 
expression,  and  lines  of  bitterness  and  strong  decision 
curved  about  his  mouth.  But  the  smile  soon  returned 
and  the  talk  flowed  into  another  channel. 

All  that  evening  I  could  speak  of  nothing  but  the 

ex-King's  charm  and  easy  erudition,  and   again  all 

the  evil  legends  and  all  the  whirl  of  gossip  and  slander 

which  had  been   set  afloat  in  my  presence  whenever 

his  name  was  mentioned  vanished  completely.     The 

261 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

next  day,  as  I  was  sitting  in  the  hotel  garden,  I  noticed 
the  same  tall  form  among  the  trees,  not  far  from  the 
bench  where  I  was  resting.  King  Milan,  after  having 
sent  in  his  card  to  the  hotel,  took  a  seat  near  mine. 
He  did  not  perceive  me,  and  remained  plunged  in 
reverie — one  of  those  sad  moods  which  often  over- 
take human  creatures  when  in  the  company  of  their 
own  souls.  A  creeping  sense  of  depression  had 
apparently  fallen  upon  him.  His  lax  hand  let  the 
thick  walking-stick  fall  unheeded  upon  the  gravel. 
He  had  taken  off  his  broad-brimmed  hat,  and  there 
was  so  much  sadness  gathered  on  his  forehead  that 
an  unconscious  emotion  of  pity  struck  my  heart,  and 
I  sat  as  still  as  possible  for  fear  of  disturbing  the 
day-dream  of  that  care-stricken  man. 

Perhaps  at  that  hour  some  presentiment,  some  fear 
for  the  future  of  his  beloved  son  Sacha,  the  bereaved 
young  King,  at  Belgrade,  far  from  father  and  mother  ; 
perhaps  some  shadow  of  his  own  approaching  end 
had  fallen  upon  that  stalwart  being,  who  had  loved 
enjoyment,  revelry,  and  money  so  well. 

The  servant   returned  to  tell  "  the  gentleman " 

that  the  persons  he  desired  to  see  were  not  at  home. 

With  a  weary  gesture  the  ex-King  rose.   In  the  broad 

avenue  he  resumed  his  easy  gait  once  more.     When 

I  went  up  to  our  apartment  I  found  his  simple  card, 

"  Count  de  Takovo,"  on    the   tray,  and    thought  no 

more  of  that   afternoon's  impression    till    the    day 

when  I  heard   of  his  untimely  end  at  Vienna,  where 

he    had    so    passionately    desired    the  presence    of 

262 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

his  beloved   Sacha,  the  ungrateful  son  who  did  not 
come. 

As  to  my  first  meeting  with  Queen  Nathalie,  it 
took  place  a  very  little  time  after  her  divorce,  when 
she  paid  a  visit  to  our  Court.  We  all  went  to  the 
station  to  witness  her  arrival,  as  she  was  more 
especially  interesting  and  attractive  to  us  because  she 
did  not  belong  to  a  Royal  family,  and  because  she  is 
through  her  mother  related  to  a  great  number  of 
Roumanian  families.  Her  husband's  relatives  never 
spoke  very  kindly  of  her,  and  in  the  long  run  we 
had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  considering  her  as  a  most 
arrant  upstart,  who  had  always  endeavoured  to  con- 
vince every  one  that  birth  and  not  good  looks  and 
good  luck  had  brought  her  to  the  position  she 
enjoyed.  Rumours  of  her  ambitious  designs,  her 
desire  to  make  the  Servians  detest  their  King,  and, 
finally,  to  take  his  place  upon  the  throne,  besides 
petty  anecdotes  about  her  pretensions,  which  spread 
like  wildfire,  caused  the  repudiated  Queen  to  be  con- 
sidered with  more  curiosity  than  commiseration. 
Our  King  alone  had  stood  by  her,  and  always  referred 
to  the  great  tact  and  courtesy  with  which  she  had 
received  him  at  Belgrade.  So  he  would  now,  in  her 
days  of  woe,  do  his  best  to  show  her  kindness  and 
regard.  When,  as  the  train  came  in,  the  ex-Queen, 
who  was  tasting  the  bitter  cup  of  misfortune,  saw 
the  Sovereign  of  the  land  waiting  for  her  on  the 
platform,  she  obviously  felt  a  glow  of  triumph  and 
of  gratitude.     As  he  went  up  and   offered   her  his 

263 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

arm,  the  beautiful  velvety  black  eyes  of  the  Queen 
filled  with  tears.     Though  of  an  aspect   somewhat 
heavy  and  massive,  she  was  then  an   apparition  of 
exultant  beauty  and  health.     But  in  every  step  and 
gesture  even  a  casual  observer  could  detect  a  singular 
mixture  of  tremor  and  resolution,  the  fear  of  losing 
an  atom  of  her  dignity,  yet   an   anxiety  to    appear 
perfectly  at  her  ease ;  a  terrible  difficulty  in  discover- 
ing   the    exact     measure     of     condescension     and 
familiarity  which  a  queen  is  called  upon  to  distribute, 
and  the  certainty  that  this  thought  was  ever  in  her 
mind,  "I  am  a  Queen  :  I  must  act  and  feel  and  speak 
like  a  Queen."     She  wore   a   dress  of  black   satin, 
thickly    studded    with   jet    stars    and    pearls.     Her 
beautiful  raven  locks  waved  on  her   shoulders   and 
even  round  her  neck  at  every  movement  of  her  head. 
Her  complexion,  of  a  creamy  hue  and  yet  rosy,  one 
of  the  loveliest  I  have  ever  seen,  gave  her  the  aspect 
of  a   sturdy  mountain   deity,   a  fairy   made  of  less 
ethereal  essence  than  fairies  are  usually  imagined  to 
embody.     A  creature  who  lives  in  a  land  of  clouds 
and    tempests  must   needs    represent   strength    and 
valour  :  thus  Queen  Nathalie  gave  the  impression  of 
being  some  wild  goddess  of  rocks  and  moors.     But 
the    mystery   that    education    and,   maybe,  heredity 
bestows — theyV  ne  sais  quoi  which  makes  queens  and 
duchesses  and  those  happy  few  who  are  queens  with- 
out ever  approaching  a  throne  and  duchesses  without 
wearing  a  coronet — was  not  present  to  render  the 
Balkan  beauty  a  distinct  type  of  grandeur  and  mis 

264 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

fortune.  I  cannot  but  remember  what  a  great  writer 
once  said  :  "  It  requires  much  intelligence  on  the 
part  of  an  unfortunate  woman  to  wear  her  misfor- 
tunes like  a  diadem  and  her  tears  like  a  crown." 
And  that  sort  of  intelligence  Queen  Nathalie  never 
possessed,  although  her  virtue  is  perfect  and  her 
heart  tender. 

When,  for  instance,  she  entered  the  big  drawing- 
room  at  the  Castel  Polesch  at  Sinai'a  by  the  side  of 
our  own  Queen  "  Carmen  Sylva,"  great  was  the 
difference  visible.  The  Royal  lady,  from  her  in- 
fancy accustomed  to  play  the  part  of  a  public  per- 
sonage, could  do  so  without  the  slightest  effort,  and 
always  succeeded  in  effacing  her  personality  in  her 
desire  to  draw  out  the  soul  and  thoughts  of  those 
to  whom  she  spoke.  Queen  Nathalie  spoke  only  of 
herself,  her  ideas  about  Servia,  its  inhabitants,  the 
army,  the  Sovereigns  whom  she  had  met ;  and  in 
those  hours  of  conversation  the  one  awful  mistake 
of  all  her  life  was  conspicuous  to  our  eyes — a  mis- 
take which  made  us  readily  understand  why  her 
great  qualities,  her  purity  and  good  intentions,  had 
all  proved  useless.  Queen  Nathalie,  unlike  every 
other  Queen,  has  insisted  upon  treating  her  private 
affairs,  her  disputes  with  her  husband,  her  displeasure 
at  being  forsaken  for  another,  as  affairs  of  State. 

After  the  official  luncheon  both  the  Queens  re- 
tired to  the  Oriental  room  of  the  castle,  where  I 
was  summoned  to  join  them.  The  chamber  was 
fragrant  with  the  odour  of  flowers,  and  the  sound 

265 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  the  mountain  torrent  was  borne  in  upon  the 
sultry  air.  We  had  left  the  doors  open,  and  the 
dazzling  light  kindled  a  fire  of  golden  rays  in  its 
reflection  from  the  walls,  which  were  hung  with 
richly-embroidered  silks,  while  round  the  seats 
flashed  gold  and  silver  arrows. 

Queen  Nathalie  in  her  black  dress  formed  a 
contrast  to  the  luxurious  display  of  Asiatic  pomp, 
"  Carmen  Sylva's  "  sweet  countenance  and  soft  white 
Roumanian  garb  seemed  like  a  flake  of  whiteness 
fallen  from  Western  skies  into  a  room  worthy  the 
dreams  of  the  Arabian  nights.  Queen  Nathalie 
played  nervously  with  her  fan,  at  a  loss  at  first  how 
to  engage  in  the  conversation.  Then  all  at  once,  as 
if  moved  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  she  said  :  "  I 
have  had  no  letter  from  Sacha  this  morning.  I  am 
so  thankful  to  spend  this  day  of  anxiety  with  your 
Majesty.  When  I  am  by  myself  I  can  do  nothing 
but  walk  to  and  fro  and  weep." 

"  Does  the  child  write  to  you  every  day  ?  "  said 
our  Queen  gently  ;  "that  is  a  great  consolation." 

**  Every  day  ?  Oh,  no,  only  once  a  week  ;  but 
this  is  the  day  when  the  letter  ought  to  have  come. 
I  live  all  the  days  of  the  week  in  expectation  of 
this  day."  Then  she  stopped  and  said  :  "  May  I 
shut  the  door  ?  The  dreadful  light  is  so  trying  to 
my  eyes." 

I  had  forestalled  the  poor  Queen*s  gesture,  and  as 
the  door  closed  the  walls  and  furniture  sank  into  a 
haze  of  reddish,  sleepy  splendour  ;  the  glory  of  the 

266 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

summer  day,  the  sense  of  joy,  were  shut  out,  and 
the  torrent  was  heard  no  more.  Our  Queen  took 
up  the  last  words :  "  You  expect — you  wait.  Oh, 
do  not  weep,  so  long  as  you  have  something  to  wait 
for,  something  to  look  forward  to." 

"Look,"  said  Queen  Nathalie,  "here  is  my  boy 
at  the  age  of  seven,  and  here  he  is  as  he  looks  now  ; 
a  fine  fellow,  and  so  fond  of  me.  I  am  afraid  they 
may  teach  him  to  hate  me — teach  him  to  be  hard 
and  selfish,  and  a  coward.  Oh,  what  do  we  desire 
our  sons  to  become  !  —  what  heroes  and  what 
saints ! " 

"  As  a  hero  he  would  die  young,"  answered 
Queen  Elizabeth.  "  As  a  saint  he  would  go  through 
much  suffering  before  he  became  a  saint.  Wish 
him  only  to  be  a  good  man.  All  human  joy  comes 
from  goodness." 

"  But  he  will  be  a  King — a  grand  and  striking 
figure." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  "  Carmen  Sylva,"  "  is  it  not  the 
grandest,  the  most  striking  thing  on  earth  to  be  a 
good  King  in  a  quiet  way  '^.  Do  you  hope  to  see 
him  again  soon  ^  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  perhaps  ;  but  I  shall  never,  never  have 
him  to  myself  again.  He  will  never  be  my  own 
Sacha  again." 

"  A  Queen's  child  does  not  belong  to  the  Queen, 
but  to  the  people,  who  will  tend  and  cherish  him  ; 
and  to  fate,  and  to  God." 

"  Yes,  to  the   people,   to   fate,  to  God,"  echoed 

267 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Queen  Nathalie.  And  no  presentiment  crossed  her 
brow  as  she  lifted  up  her  head  with  determina- 
tion. 

The  second  time  I  saw  the  Queen  of  Servia  was 
at  a  garden-party  in  Paris — one  of  those  assemblies 
which  are  but  a  pretence  to  show  off  spring  toilettes 
and  listen  to  pleasant  music.  The  big  drawing- 
room  windows  opened  on  to  the  lawn,  where  in  the 
middle  of  a  group  of  ladies  I  recognised  Queen 
Nathalie,  and  even  found  that  she  was  little  altered, 
though  that  air  of  heaviness  had  now  settled 
upon  her  and  the  rosy  tint  of  her  complexion 
had  been  replaced  by  a  more  vivid  hue.  She 
looked  more  depressed  and  more  dignified  than  in 
Roumania. 

I   took  a    chair    outside   on   to    the   terrace    and 

watched  the  gay   scene,     I  had   to  wait  for    some 

friends  who  had  given   me  an  appointment   there. 

Two  ladies  drew  their  chairs  close  to  the  spot  where 

I  was  seated.     One  of  them,  a  Frenchwoman,  bowed  ; 

while  the  other,  whom  1  did  not  know,  turned  her 

back  upon  me.     She  wore  a  simple  grey  serge  dress, 

and  immediately  she  spoke  I  recognised  the  long, 

trailing    accent    of  Russians  when  they    speak  the 

French  language.     It  was  Madame  Draga  Maschin, 

afterwards  the  ill-starred  Queen ;  and  though  at  the 

time  I  did  not  know  her,  yet  unwittingly  I  became 

interested    in    her,    and    was    even    wishing    for  an 

opportunity    of   seeing    her   face    when    the    words 

struck    me,    pronounced    in    sing-song    tones  :     "  / 

z68 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

marry  !  Oh,  I  could  not  dream  of  such  a  thing,  I 
am  an  old  woman  " — a  low  laugh  accompanied  the 
words — "  I  have  finished  with  Satan  and  his 
pomps.  Besides,  no  one  ever  takes  any  notice  of 
me." 

A  mute  protestation  came  from  the  other  lady, 
and  then  the  insinuating  voice  went  on.  "  I  am 
not  a  coquette,  nor  a  flirt,  nor  any  of  those  horrid 
amusing  things  !  My  sole  ambition  is  centred  on 
one  thought — to  please  her^'  And  she  pointed  to 
the  spot  on  the  lawn  where  Queen  Nathalie  was 
standing. 

'*  And  you  spend  a  pleasant  life } " 

"  Yes ;  but  a  very  quiet  one.  I  have  been  so 
unhappy,  so  misunderstood,  so  ill-used  by  my  hus- 
band's family  since  his  death  that  I  only  sigh  after 
repose.  Biarritz  is  restful,  and  the  Queen  is  so 
good  that  I  have  become  very  much  attached  to 
her.  I  am  more  than  a  lady-in-waiting."  I  heard 
again  that  low,  rippling  laugh  which  betrayed  a 
strong  personality,  though  the  words  tried  to  deny 
or  veil  it.  "I  am  sometimes  even  lady's  maid.  I 
love  to  comb  her  beautiful  black  hair  ;  and  then  we 
relate  the  story  of  our  lives  to  each  other.  She  also 
has  suffered.  How  horrible,  oh,  how  horrible,  it 
must  be  to  be  a  Queen !  How  can  any  sensible 
woman  envy  a  Queen  }  " 

"  Hush  !  "  and  the  other  lady  whispered  in  her 
companion's  ear,  and  the  stranger  turned  brusquely 
round  in  her  chair  and  looked  me  full  in  the  face. 

269 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Her  countenance  was  well  calculated  to  charm 
though  not  to  command  attention  ;  the  features 
though  delicate,  lacked  refinement,  and  there  was 
about  the  nose  a  deficiency  of  classical  lines,  while 
the  mouth  twitched  in  a  nervous  way  as  if  moved  to 
smile  without  the  courage  to  do  so.  The  glossy 
black  hair  waved  round  a  low  forehead  where 
furrows  were  already  settled,  traced  not  by  age 
but  by  stern,  resolute  thought  and  action.  The 
eyes  and  eyebrows  alone  were  perfect,  and  spoke 
of  an  Oriental  houri's  power.  They  had  a  vacant 
gaze,  as  if  intent  upon  a  far-off  vision,  yet  when 
they  fixed  themselves  upon  the  present  scene  they 
shot  a  gleam  of  resolution  and  authority.  The 
figure  was  frail  and  the  manner  unassuming.  The 
gaze  that  rested  upon  my  face  was  soon  with- 
drawn, and  the  conversation  began  again  in  the 
same  train. 

Madame  Draga  Maschin  again  described  the 
sorrows  of  her  life  and  the  thousand  details  of 
Queen  Nathalie's  goodness  to  her,  while  twilight 
was  slowly  creeping  over  the  Parisian  garden,  and 
an  atmosphere  of  peace  settled  around  us.  The 
hum  of  lively  voices  and  the  strains  of  military 
music,  servants  gliding  about  laden  with  trays  bear- 
ing fruit,  ices,  and  wines,  the  light  touch  of  the 
sleepy  sun  falling  upon  the  muslin  draperies  and 
scarfs,  all  inclined  to  soothe  the  senses  with  an  hour 
of  lulled  content. 

"  Oh,    we   are    so    happy    in    France,"    resumed 

270 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

Madame  Draga,  as  she  took  a  glass  of  champagne 
and  daintily  raised  it  to  her  lips.  "  I  would  never 
go  to  Servia  again  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  But  who,  or  what,  could  oblige  you  to  go  to 
that  nasty  country  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  not  nasty ;  it  is  my  country ;  but  I 
have  enemies  there,  whereas  here  every  one  loves  me. 
But  you  understand  the  Queen  is  such  a  devoted 
mother.  She  will  one  day  desire  to  see  more  of  her 
son  than  she  does  at  Biarritz,  where  he  comes  only 
for  a  short  time.  She  will  return  to  Belgrade,  and 
then  I  shall  have  to  accompany  her,  and  if  she  settles 
there — oh,  then,  farewell  flirtations ;  farewell  all 
hopes  of  marriage.  But  I  won't  marry  again  ;  I  am 
too  old  and  plain,  and  I  don't  flirt.  Besides,  I  sup- 
pose I  should  have  even  forgotten  my  native  lan- 
guage. I  am  getting  so  cosmopolitan  that,  only 
think,  the  young  King,  when  he  came  to  Biarritz 
this  summer,  discovered  that  there  were  many  words 
in  Servian  I  did  not  understand,  and  he  laughed — 
he  teased  me." 

"What  is  he  like,  the  young  King  ? " 

*'  Not  good-looking — a  child  still  in  thoughts  and 
manners — very  plain  even,  one  may  call  him,  and  so 
short-sighted.  We  tried  to  teach  him  to  dance,  but 
he  looked  as  awkward  as  a  bear  dancing  on  red  coals. 
A  young  savage,  too — he  does  not  know  how  to 
bow,  how  to  speak  to  a  lady.  But  then  he  is  young 
— quite  a  child.  He  asked  me  to  waltz  with  him 
because  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  do  it  with  any 

271 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  the  other  ladies  present.  Now,  you  know,  I  do 
not  dance  ;  I  have  not  danced  for  years.  I  said  to 
the  King,  '  Sire,  I  am  too  old  to  waltz,'  but  the 
Queen  insisted  on  my  guiding  her  son  through 
the  difficulties  of  the  dance.  But  the  King  made 
a  false  step  ;  he  almost  fell,  and  I  am  sure  we  made 
every  one  laugh." 

"  Then,  if  you  do  not  like  dancing,  if  you  do  not 
like  flirting,  if  you  do  not  like  the  idea  of  marrying 
again,  what  is  there  you  do  like  .''  " 

"  My  Queen,  and  a  peaceful  life  by  her  side,  and 
many  other  things  :  music,  for  instance — military 
music.  There  is  something  so  unrestrained,  so 
powerful  in  military  music.  Just  listen  to  the 
band — it  is  just  playing — let  us  look  at  the  pro- 
gramme. Oh  !  Schumann,  is  it  ?  I  dote  upon 
Schumann." 

Draga  now  had  risen.  She  was  of  middle  stature, 
and  rested  a  small  well-gloved  hand  on  the  marble 
balustrade  of  the  terrace.  Night  was  setting  in,  and 
on  the  delicate  features  a  low  streak  of  red  light 
lingered  as  the  sinking  sun  sent  a  last  farewell  from 
among  the  distant  trees.  Behind  the  slight  tulle 
veil  a  smile  flitted  across  the  curving  lips,  paled 
by  the  sudden  chillness  of  the  hour.  Again  into 
the  eyes  that  look  of  vacant  fixity  had  entered, 
and  they  appeared  to  gaze  far,  far  into  the  future 
— far,  far  into  the  depths  of  the  blood-red  sun. 

The  languid  Schumann  melody  came  ebbing  to 
our    feet  like  the  waters  of  a  melodious    sea,  and 

272 


THE  SOVEREIGNS  OF  SERVIA 

the  ill-fated  woman  listened  to  the  same  music 
that  on  the  supreme  morning  of  her  life  was  to 
sound  through  the  avenues  and  gardens  around 
the  palace  where,  after  the  madness  of  despair  and 
useless  struggle,  the  Royal  pair  lay  stark  and  cold. 


^11> 


I'lioto  hy  (<««(',  Ixoiiic 


POPE    l.tO    XIII 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

The  fate  which  rules  over  human  existence  seems  to 
delight  in  the  most  violent  contrasts,  in  scenes  of 
woe  and  grandeur  succeeding  each  other  with  won- 
derful speed  :  hence  we  find  recorded  almost  in  the 
same  month  the  tragical  disappearance  of  a  royal 
couple  who  died  midst  floods  of  blood  and  screams 
of  terror,  and  the  peaceful  end  of  one  of  the  greatest 
Popes  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  ever 
acknowledged  as  head.  By  turns  we  shiver  and 
dream  and  pray  when  we  come  to  compare  the 
events  of  that  fateful  June  night  in  Belgrade,  its 
infuriated  mob,  its  maddened  passions  and  fearful 
murder,  with  the  moments  which  marked  the  en- 
trance into  eternity  of  the  White  Ascetic,  as  some 
called  him,  the  White  Sage  and  Pastor,  Leo  XIII. 

A  few  years  ago  I  had  the  honour  of  being  re- 
ceived by  the  Pope  on  a  clear  January  morning, 
which  the  sun's  bright  rays  rendered  as  silvery  as 
the  flight  of  the  wheeling  doves  above  St.  Peter's 
massive  dome.  The  breeze,  freshened  by  the  cool- 
ness of  the  night,  blew  lightly  from  the  Sabine  Hills, 
bringing  with  it  a  scent  of  pagan  flowers,  a  thrill  of 

^11 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

pagan  beauty,  to  the  sacred  precincts,  as  if  to  sym- 
bolise the  eternal  fight  ever  to  be  fought  between 
the  loveliness  of  outward  forms,  the  glamour  of 
light  and  colour,  and  the  austerity  of  souls  who 
have  turned  to  Heaven  on  finding  the  world  void. 
Ample  time  for  reflection  was  left  to  me  during  the 
long  interval  we  had  to  wait  before  entering  the 
Vatican,  as  an  immense  number  of  Tuscan  pilgrims 
had  to  be  received  before  us — early  as  the  hour  had 
been  at  which  we  had  driven  through  the  high  stone 
gate.  On  alighting  from  the  carriage  we  remained 
in  the  vast  court,  which  is  surrounded  with  a  graceful 
colonnade,  and  here  our  black  veils  were  nearly  torn 
from  our  heads  by  the  swift  morning  wind.  Now 
and  then  a  busy  contadina  paced  quickly  along  the 
pavement  and  entered  the  colossal  church.  In  my 
bosom,  though  I  tried  to  think  only  of  the  great 
moment  which  was  to  follow,  strife  was  raging ; 
memories  swift  and  piercing  as  arrows  crossed  my 
mind,  and  I  saw  the  mute  forms — those  forms  of 
bronze  and  marble  that  fill  the  Belvedere — rise  in 
battle  array  against  the  altar  and  the  palace  where 
the  White  Ascetic  lived  and  prayed.  Extraordinary 
it  seemed  to  me  and  almost  appalling  in  that  early 
morning  hour,  when  silvery  doves  cooed  and  circled 
— appalling  and  extraordinary  it  seemed  that  the 
realms  of  immortal  harmony  should  touch  the  realm 
of  immortal  desires ;  that  this  religion,  whose  last 
vestiges  were  scattered  under  the  naked  feet  of  rude 
fishermen,  should  reign  in  close  vicinity  to  its  victor. 

278 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

Almost  impiously  I  found  myself  imagining  that  in 
the  blue  moonlit  nights  of  the  Latin  Campagna 
scenes  worthy  of  northern  ballads  might  again  take 
place.  I  imagined  the  fettered  Venus  and  Apollo 
shaking  off  their  slumber  and  leaving  their  pedestals 
to  walk  through  this  same  court  of  dreams  and  peace, 
then  crossing  the  white  Vatican  halls  to  go  and  gaze 
upon  the  features  of  Christ  and  the  Madonna,  painted 
over  and  over  again  by  Raphael  and  Fra  Beato. 
And  I  imagined  them  discovering  that  it  was  the  same 
love  of  art  which  had  made  them  lovely  and  eternal 
in  the  memory  of  man,  that  made  Jesus  and  His 
holy  Mother  dear  to  reverence  and  faith  ;  that  there 
was  a  link  between  them  which  ages  could  not  de- 
stroy, and  that  they  would  again  and  again  return 
to  their  contemplation  in  the  moonlit  galleries.  But 
what  could  the  stony  multitude  of  gods  and  heroes 
say  as  they  glided  past  the  chamber  where  the  White 
Ascetic  slept  ?  What  god  or  hero  could  they  com- 
pare with  him  who  was  neither  God  nor  man,  but  a 
mortal  fraught  with  human  weakness — a  creature  of 
clay,  though  adored  as  a  deity ;  an  old,  old  man, 
with  gestures  weak  as  those  of  a  little  child,  yet 
whose  eyes  shone  and  glimmered  like  the  eyes  of 
those  whose  fate  it  is  to  rule  and  to  control .?.... 
At  this  juncture  in  my  reverie  a  flood  of  people 
streamed  from  the  Vatican  doors.  All  were  talking 
loudly,  and  all  were  in  the  humble  attire  of  Italian 
peasants  or  small  bourgeois.     The  emotion  of  having 

seen  "  II  Papa  "  made  their  tones  shrill  as  eacn  tried 

279 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

to  prove  that  he  had  seen  him  better  than  his  neigh- 
bours. From  such  scattered  sentences  as  reached  me 
I  discovered  that  they  had  first  heard  Mass  at  St. 
Peter's,  and  had  then  been  brought  into  the  presence 
of  his  Holiness,  who  had  addressed  a  speech  to  them. 
He  had  also  blessed  the  beads  they  held  in  their 
hands  or  clasped  eagerly  to  their  bosoms.  There 
was  a  hum  of  happy  excitement  among  them  while 
we  vainly  tried  to  pierce  the  crowd,  and  it  was  only 
after  much  difficulty  that  we  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  short  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  great  hall. 
Here  an  idle  group  of  soldiers  allowed  us  to  pass  on 
showing  our  letter  of  audience,  and  we  ascended  the 
main  staircase.  From  hall  to  hall  we  were  ushered 
by  footmen  wearing  the  picturesque  costume  designed 
for  them  by  Michael  Angelo  at  the  request  of  his 
friend  and  patron  Leo  X.  In  these  vast  echoing 
halls  a  large  number  of  soldiers  stood  motionless, 
and  preceding  us  always  was  one  of  those  camerias  di 
casa  or  di  spada^  who  are  the  Pope's  chamberlains, 
and  who  all  belong  to  the  most  ancient  Roman 
families.  Here  the  stately  form  of  a  monsignor, 
whose  violet  sash  relieved  the  uniformity  of  his  black 
cassock,  there  the  whispering  apparition  of  an  arch- 
bishop surrounded  by  a  small  train  of  servitors  and 
friends,  announced  that  we  were  in  a  place  teeming 
with  tradition — perhaps  the  one  place  upon  earth 
where  tradition  is  still  living  and  still  respected. 
With  but  few  exceptions,  the  figures  we  saw  were 
the    same   as   had  graced  these    marble    halls    two 

280 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

centuries  ago,  and  a  Pope  of  long  gone  ages  might 
have  risen  from  his  tomb  and  found  no  change  in  the 
Vatican  but  that  of  face  or  voice.  Of  all  the  Courts 
I  had  visited  this  Court  now  seemed  to  me  the  most 
gorgeous  and  the  best  arranged. 

Upon  a  sign  from  one  of  the  ushers  we  stopped  to 
wait,  and  our  emotion  grew  intense.  We  had  been 
told  that  as  we  did  not  belong  to  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church,  we  should  not  have  to  kneel  on  entering 
the  room  where  the  Pope  would  receive  us,  but  make 
a  very  low  curtsey,  something  like  a  genuflexion,  be- 
fore approaching  him.  Although  not  as  the  head 
of  our  religion,  those  of  the  Orthodox  faith  look 
upon  him  as  the  successor  of  St.  Peter  and  hold  him 
in  reverence,  especially  among  the  cultivated  classes. 
Among  our  peasantry  I  am  ashamed  to  own  that  the 
fact  of  being  a  Papist  is  tantamount  to  the  confession 
of  being  a  heathen  ;  but  in  Transylvania  and  even 
Roumania  there  are  many  of  my  countrymen  who 
profess  the  Catholic  creed  and  are  yet  unmolested. 
Even  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Bucharest  there  is 
a  Roman  Catholic  settlement,  and  to  this  fact  the 
monsignor  who  held  conversation  with  us  while  we 
waited  made  allusion,  asking  us  many  questions  about 
our  native  land. 

A  hasty  summons,  a  noise  of  opening  doors,  and 

in  a  few  seconds  we  found  ourselves  in   presence  of 

the  Pope.     We  had  walked  as  in  a   dream,  and  I 

would  be  embarrassed  at  this  moment  to  tell  whether 

we  actually  knelt  or  forbore  to  do  so,  whether  our 

281 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

curtseys    and    genuflexions    were    correct,    or   were 
omitted  altogether.     I   awoke  to  reality  only  when 
1  noticed  that  the  Pope  was  showing  us  a  seat  by  his 
side.     He  occupied  a  high  chair,  where   the  extra- 
ordinary whiteness  of  his  garb  and  his  face  made  one 
large  luminous  spot.     I  remembered   having   heard 
from  some  nun  whose  special  mission  it  was  to  weave 
and  cut  and  sew  the  Pope's  vestments  that  he  never 
wore  anything  on  his  body  that  was  not  absolutely 
white.     As  his  pale  thin  hands  rested  on  the  woollen 
tunic,   I  saw  that   St.   Peter's  ring,   the   heavy  gold 
circlet  on  his  third  finger,  was  the  only  note  of  colour 
in  that  symphony  of   immaculate    snow.     A  huge 
purple   amethyst    contains    St.   Peter's  hair — a   few 
threads  only — which  lend  to  the  ring  its  high  signi- 
ficance.    By  that  ring  the  Pope  is  Bridegroom  of  the 
Church,  her  Spouse  and  her  Beloved,  as  once  the 
Doge  of  Venice  was  the  affianced  of  the  Adriatic 
Sea,  on  throwing  into  the  bosom  of  its  waters  a  huge 
symbolic  ring.     Slowly,  with  intent  gaze,  the  Pope 
scanned  our  countenances,  and  before  speaking  sank 
back  in  his  high  chair  with  closed  eyes  as  if  weary 
beforehand  of  the  coming  exertion. 

There  was  no  trace  of  colour  in  his  wan  cheeks, 
not  the  least  sign  of  blood  under  the  skin  to 
mark  the  curve  of  the  lips ;  his  nostrils  were 
tinged  by  the  hue  of  pale  amber  that  floated  on 
his  forehead ;  he  was  like  a  slumbering  marble 
statue  stretched  on  a  mediaeval  tomb.  His  inau- 
dible breath  did  not  stir  the  folds   of  his  tunic,    his 

28z 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

heavy  eyelids  fell  like  the  petals  of  a  faded  flower, 
and  he  seemed  already  dead.  We  could  believe 
ourselves  present  at  the  great  spectacle  of  a  Pope's 
dying  hour,  and  remained  in  awed  terror  till  the 
motionless  form  moved,  stirred  ;  and  finally,  as  if 
the  touch  of  the  spirit  from  above  had  inspired 
him  with  life  and  force,  Leo  XIII.  opened  his 
bright  black  eyes,  threw  his  hands  apart,  and  took 
a  long  deep  breath.  His  lips  trembled  ;  but  in  tones 
whose  steadfast  clearness  can  never  be  forgotten  by 
those  who  have  once  heard  them,  he  began  speaking 
fluently  as  one  accustomed  to  question  and  treat 
of  every  subject. 

He  spoke  French  with  a  strong  Italian  accent 
and  nasal  aspirations  which  rendered  his  voice 
peremptory  and  even  piercing.  Thousands  of 
small  wrinkles  marked  his  sunken  face  and  seemed 
to  pass  from  one  feature  to  another  like  the 
shadows  on  an  autumn  stream.  His  kindness  and 
his  ready  smile  gave  him  a  benevolent  expression 
which  might  almost  have  meant  weakness  but  for 
the  piercing  look  of  the  restless  coal-black  eyes 
that  wandered  like  living  torches.  The  voice,  ac- 
customed to  scatter  orisons  and  benedictions,  now 
spoke  of  everyday  events,  and  I  could  not  help 
remembering  how  I  had  once  been  thrilled  at  a 
large  function  under  St.  Peter's  dome  on  hearing  the 
"  pater  "  said  by  that  white  old  man  who  now  turned 
towards  us  with  such  sweet  familiarity  and  inquired  : 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  long  in  Rome  ?     I  would 

283 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

advise  you  to  spend  the  Easter  holidays  with  us. 
You  cannot  know  the  real  beauty,  the  real  holiness 
of  Rome,  if  you  have  not  heard  the  Easter  func- 
tions in  our  basilica  and  at  St.  Jean  de  Lateran. 
Have  you  visited  St.  Paolo  fuori  le  Mura  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Holy  Father,"  and  I  remained  a  little  em- 
barrassed. 

This  the  Pope  quickly  noticed,  and  guessing  the 
cause  of  my  hesitation,  said  in  an  easy  natural  tone  : 

*'  You  have  been  told,  haven't  you,  that  my  desire 
is  to  be  buried  there  .?  "  Then  turning  to  another 
topic  :  "  I  am  very  much  interested  inRoumania,  and 
in  all  the  spiritual  children  I  have  there — Roumanians 
make  very  good  Roman  Catholics." 

"  Of  course,  Holy  Father,  once  they  are  Roman 
Catholics  they  are  true  to  the  faith.  .   .  ." 

"And  all  would  be  true,  every  one  of  you,  if 
you  could  but  understand  and  fulfil  my  great 
desire — the  union  of  the  Churches." 

"  Oh,  that  seems  to  me  impossible,  Holy  Father." 

"  To  you,  but  not  to  me.  The  Shepherd  longs 
to  bring  back  the  vagrant  lamb  to  the  fold.   .   .   ." 

*'  But,  Holy  Father,  if  the  lamb  does  not  know  it 
is  vagrant,  and  is  convinced  that  it  is  he  who  belongs 
to  the  true  fold  .    .   .   ?'' 

A  flash  of  indignation  shot  from  the  curiously 
keen  black  eyes.  Then  the  Pope  sank  back  into  his 
chair  to  resume  that  attitude  of  utter  prostration 
which  he  assumed  twice  or  three  times  during  our 
visit.     It  seemed  as  if  he  fell  into  a  trance,  during 

284 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

which  inspirations  from  above  visited  him,  but 
now  a  sign  from  his  fingers  urged  me  to  speak 
on. 

"  Besides,  your  Holiness  knows  much  better  than 
myself  that  the  differences  between  our  religions  lies 
only  in  outward  signs,  that  we  enjoy  the  blessings 
of  Communion,  that  the  Holy  Virgin  is  adored 
by  us  with  the  same  fervour  as  by  the  Roman  Catho- 
lics. The  great  impediment  to  the  Union  of  the 
Churches  would  arise  from  the  fact — from  the  fact  " 
—  here  I  stammered  slightly,  and  then  stopped 
short  as  I  had  begun  a  sentence  which  in  presence  of 
the  Pope  I  could  not  well  finish.  The  great  im- 
pediment which  I  was  about  to  be  so  imprudent  as 
to  mention  was  the  certainty  that  our  Orthodox 
creed  would  never  recognise  the  supremacy  and  in- 
fallibility of  the  Pope. 

Again  he  sat  erect,  again  the  strange  gleaming 
eyes  kindled  with  a  vivid  flame.  "  You  err,  and 
you  need  tuition.  Security  and  life  are  to  be  found 
here  only,  in  the  place  where  I  stand  and  upon  which 
the  Church  is  built.  But  I  have  been  told  you  are 
a  poet,  and  therefore  much  more  versed  in  the  gentle 
art  of  Horace  and  Virgil  than  in  theological  discus- 
sion." The  voice  softened ;  an  amused  smile 
crossed  the  thin  lips.  "  I  am  a  poet  also,  and  I 
will  repeat  to  you  the  Latin  verse  I  composed 
this  morning  after  Mass,  just  before  I  received 
the   faithful    pilgrims    of   Tuscany."     Closing    his 

eyes  the  Pope  slowly  recited    two  verses  in  praise 

a85 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  the  Virgin  Mary  and  of  Spring.  Then  he 
inquired  about  the  climate  of  our  country,  and 
said  : 

'*  You  live  near  the  place  where  Ovid  was  exiled 
and  where  he  regretted  Rome." 

"  Not  very  near,  but  your  Holiness  is  not  mis- 
taken ;  the  town  where  Ovid  spent  the  latter  years 
of  his  life,  with  his  eyes  ever  turned  towards  the  sea 
where  he  expected  to  perceive  the  vessel  that  would 
bear  him  home,  is  situated  within  the  Roumanian 
kingdom." 

"  Oh,  then  I  hope  when  you  return  to  Roumania 
you  will  be  like  Ovid  and  sigh  after  Rome,  and  I 
sincerely  pray  Heaven  that  your  desire  to  see  the 
Holy  City  again  may  be  fulfilled.  Carry  my  bene- 
diction to  all  my  spiritual  children  you  may  meet 
there,  and  I  will  remember  you  in  my  prayers,  not- 
withstanding— "  and  at  that  moment  the  smile  that 
curved  the  pale  lips  reminded  me  of  a  similar 
expression  I  had  seen  in  a  portrait  of  Cardinal 
Richelieu, — "  I  will  remember  you  in  my  prayers, 
notwithstanding  that  terrible  impediment  you  were 
about  to  mention,  but  did  not  dare  to  name.   .   .   ." 

When  we  descended  the  broad  staircase  it  was 
almost  noon,  and  the  full  light  of  the  Roman  sun- 
shine flooded  the  marbles  and  the  pictures  all  around. 
The  shrill  clear  sound  of  that  imperious  voice,  the 
white  reclining  form,  and  the  start  with  which  the 
great  Pope  returned  to  signs  of  life  and  interest  after 
appearing  to  be  plunged  in  meditation  and  repose — 

z86 


THE  POPE  LEO  XIII 

all  the  particulars  of  that  memorable  interview  still 
dwell  with  me,  though  often  since  then  have  I  beheld 
the  august  figure  of  the  Pope  carried  high  above  the 
crowd,  and  often  heard  the  peremptory  tones  call  to 
Heaven  or  murmur  prayers  and  benedictions.  On 
such  occasions  Leo  XIII.  was  more  than  a  priest, 
more  than  the  Head  of  a  Church,  more  than  a 
human  creature  ;  he  became  the  very  symbol  of  faith 
and  spirituality,  whereas  during  that  half-hour  in 
that  chamber  of  the  Vatican  Palace,  he  seemed  to 
me  an  image  of  pure  and  real  kindliness,  one  to 
whom  the  humblest  could  come  for  comfort  and 
advice.  For  a  time  the  little  lamp  was  extinguished 
which  used  to  be  seen  from  every  part  of  Rome,  and 
to  which  the  people  would  point  saying,  "  Look, 
there  is  the  Pope's  lamp  ! "  It  soon  shone  again, 
but  the  grand  white  figure  of  the  Pope,  whose  title 
"  Lumen  in  coelo  "  had  been  pronounced  by  predic- 
tions four  hundred  years  before  his  day,  the  towering 
spirit  of  Leo  XIII.  is  no  more.  So  white,  so  pale, 
so  bereft  of  flesh,  yet  so  strong ;  so  near  to  death, 
yet  so  fully  alive  to  every  manifestation  of  his 
calling,  he  seemed  immortal,  though  ever  on  the 
verge  of  the  tomb.  He  loved  the  poor  with  an 
almost  fierce  affection,  and  had  many  a  hard  fight  to 
defend  them  against  those  who  believed  that  the 
Pope's  duty  lay  on  the  side  of  the  prosperous  and 
the  powerful. 

"  I  have  sent  the  richest  wine  which  was  sent  me 
to  my  family  this  morning,"  said  he  one  day.     Some 

287 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

one  answered :  "  Then  Count  Pecci  and  Count 
Moroni  will  be  able  to  appreciate  the  good  presents 
your  Holiness  has  received  and  given  them." 

"  Pecci,  Moroni  ? "  repeated  the  Pope,  "  I  know 
not  what  you  mean.  My  family  walks  barefoot, 
and  lies  in  hospitals  or  sultry  dens  stretched  upon 
hard  pallets,  Pecci,  Moroni — they  are  Joachim 
Pecchi's  nephews  ;  but  the  others,  the  orphans  and 
the  exiled,  the  wanderers  and  the  exhausted,  they 
are  mothers,  sisters,  and  brothers  to  me." 


288 


riioto  by  (,'.  i?~  //'.  Mi'tsaii,  Al>er,iccii 


QUEEN    VICTORIA 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

However  numerous  and  interesting  may  be  the 
descriptions  of  personages  who  have  come  in  touch 
with  the  great  Queen,  however  thrilling  the  narra- 
tives in  connection  with  her  public  and  private  life, 
still,  every  one  who  had  the  honour  of  approaching 
that  illustrious  lady  may  feel  justified  in  hoping 
that  yet  more  remains  to  be  told  of  one  whose  every 
movement,  whose  every  word,  now  belongs  to 
history.  When,  as  in  the  case  of  the  present  writer, 
the  emotion  which  arises  from  the  presence  of  so 
revered  a  sovereign  is  felt  at  an  age  when  enthusiasm 
and  desire  unite  to  make  heart  and  soul  ardent  and 
eager,  it  is  a  joy  to  catch  each  sign  of  feeling,  to 
cherish  the  lightest  impression,  to  retain  even  the 
smallest  detail.  I  am  not  afraid,  therefore,  to  appear 
daring,  or  lacking  in  modesty  and  common  sense, 
when  I  say  that  my  own  experience  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria's kindness  and  intellectual  power  may  prove  a 
novelty  even  to  those  who  have  read  the  innumer- 
able books  and  biographies  that  have  been  written 
concerning  her. 

All  the  circumstances  of  our  journey  to  Scotland, 

291 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

whither  I  accompanied  Queen  Elizabeth  of  Rou- 
mania  (*'  Carmen  Sylva  "),  are  yet  so  fresh  in  my  mind 
that  I  am  scarcely  able  to  realise  how  far  off  those 
days  are  now,  beyond  our  reach  for  ever.  Methinks 
I  see  again  the  little  station  of  Ballater,  gaily 
decorated  with  foliage  and  wild  flowers,  as  our 
Royal  train  rushed  in,  then  came  to  a  sudden  stop 
in  front  of  the  eternal  red  carpet.  Red  carpets  and 
white  gloves  are  so  associated  with  official  receptions, 
so  familiar  and  so  loathsome  to  travelling  Royalty, 
that  "  Carmen  Sylva  "  always  says  :  "  Oh,  what  would 
my  travels  be  like,  how  joyous  and  charming,  with- 
out those  obnoxiously  new  red  carpets  and  those 
awful  white  gloves  !  What  would  I  not  give  to  see 
bare  stones  and  bare  hands  before  me  !  " 

Methinks  I  can  hear  again  the  shrill  notes  of  the 
bagpipes  as  the  Highland  regiments  burst  into 
sight,  playing  a  glad  salute.  The  doors  of  our 
compartment  are  flung  open  ;  the  Prince  of  Wales 
mounts  a  few  steps  and  helps  our  Queen  to  alight. 
We  know  well  that  everything  will  pass  off  in  the 
conventionally  ceremonious  way  which  renders  one 
Royal  interview  so  much  like  another ;  every  move- 
ment, every  syllable  is  studied  and  decided  before- 
hand ;  every  one  seems  delighted,  and  declares  this 
moment  to  be  eventful  and  entrancing.  How 
natural,  how  free  from  constraint,  how  simple  and 
sincere  they  all  seem  to  be  while  viccomplishing  the 
dismal  duty !  How  difficult  even  for  the  closest 
observer  to  detect  the  slightest  hesitation  or  passing 

292 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

shade  of  annoyance  on  the  well-trained  countenance; 
how  impossible,  if  one  is  not  aware  of  the  truth,  to 
discover  that  the  conversations  obey  the  same  un- 
flinching rules  and  never  vary;  how  striking  appears 
the  merit  of  those  who  can  give  to  them  such  a 
semblance  of  life  that  at  times  even  the  Princes 
themselves  forget  they  are  playing  a  part  !  Now, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  all  these  ceremonies  and 
salutes  are  a  serious  drawback  if  any  person  present 
has  a  secret  desire  to  gather  information,  or  is 
bent  on  some  psychological  inquiry  dear  to  that 
spirit  of  philosophy  which  the  true  soul  pursues 
everywhere.  The  visages,  serene  and  courteous, 
wear  a  silken  mask ;  as  with  the  red  carpet  and  the 
white  gloves,  a  glare  and  gloss  is  cast  upon  things 
whose  nakedness  would  otherwise  be  too  apparent, 
but  which  makes  them  perfectly  monotonous. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it  must  be  always  the  same 
red  carpet  we  see  at  every  station  where  I  have  to 
alight .?  "  asks  the  Queen. 

Yet  we  feel  obliged  to  confess  that  leisure  and  an 
agreeable  freedom  are  obtained  by  the  facilities 
attendant  on  Royal  arrivals.  No  porter  to  scream 
after,  no  anxiety  about  the  luggage,  no  rough  old 
gentleman  to  elbow  his  way  just  between  one's 
innocent  self  and  a  foot-warmer,  no  grating  quarrels, 
in  fact  none  of  the  thousand  nuisances  that  often 
change  the  station  of  a  big  city  into  a  corner  of 
Dante's  hell. 

So    there    we   were,   in    the  grey    mist  of  a  raw 

293  s 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

September  morning,  bowing  and  curtseying  right  and 
left.  This  was  for  the  moment  our  only  serious 
duty  ;  when  we  had  done  so  for  at  least  ten  minutes, 
in  a  methodical  and,  I  must  say,  most  elegant  way, 
we  could  easily  look  round  and  try  to  recognise  all 
the  illustrious  personages  who  had  come  to  meet  us. 
These  were  the  Princess  of  Wales,  the  Princess  of 
Battenberg,  her  husband,  Prince  Henry,  the  late 
Duke  of  Clarence,  Princess  Victoria  of  Wales.  Our 
Queen  walked  lightly  from  one  to  the  other,  and, 
leaning  on  the  arm  which  the  Prince  of  Wales  had 
proffered,  they  now  exchanged  quite  a  volley  of 
affectionate  compliments. 

"  How  kind  of  you  to  have  come  so  far  !  We 
really  did  not  dare  ask  you  to  come." 

'*  But  how  could  I  be  twelve  hours  distant  from 
Queen  Victoria  without  doing  my  utmost  to  see 
her .? " 

"  But  we  really  are  so  agreeably  surprised,  so 
charmed  to  greet  you  here.  Till  the  very  last  moment 
we  were  afraid  you  would  not  make  the  journey." 

Yet  we  were  all  aware  that  the  meeting  between 
Roumania's  Queen  and  the  Queen  of  England  had 
been  arranged  long  before  we  left  Roumania.  I  was 
convinced  that  I  should  see  very  little  of  Queen 
Victoria  during  the  two  days  we  were  to  spend  at 
Balmoral,  and  I  was  already  making  plans  for  scour- 
ing the  Highland  hills  and  glens,  in  the  company  of 
the  amiable  ladies-in-waiting  whose  acquaintance  we 
had  just  made,  and   who  spoke  gaily  of  their  drives 

294 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

and  walks.  When  I  bent  low  over  the  Queen's  prof- 
fered hand,  my  sole  idea  was  to  cast  a  hasty  glance 
at  her  face.  My  glance  quickly  took  in  the  whole 
countenance, — the  clear  azure  of  her  childish  eyes, 
the  complexion  rosy  instead  of  red  as  I  had  always 
supposed  her  skin  to  be,  and  the  extreme  candour 
of  her  looks  and  smile ;  an  expression  so  strange 
in  the  physiognomy  of  an  aged  grandmother, 
that  I  kept  pondering  over  the  fact  and  immediately 
wrote  in  my  Journal  de  Voyage  :  "La  reine  a 
un  visage  limpide — ses  rides  sont  jeunes."  (The 
Queen  has  a  limpid  countenance — her  wrinkles  are 
young.) 

My  expectations  were  completely  at  fault ;  no 
leisure  was  to  be  left  for  an  afternoon  in  the  forest 
or  the  park  round  the  castle ;  we  were  told  after 
luncheon  that  the  Queen  invited  us  all  to  tea.  The 
hours  fled  swiftly  as  we  sat  in  the  billiard  room  talk- 
ing gaily  and  hearing  the  other  ladies  tell  all  about 
the  Court  of  England,  while  in  our  turn  we  described 
to  them  the  customs  of  our  own.  There  is  always 
between  dames  d'honneur  an  exchange  of  opinions 
regarding  etiquette  which  constitutes  a  subject  of 
conversation  unknown  in  other  circles  of  society.  In 
this  I  have  always  found  the  greatest  amusement, 
since  personal  feelings  and  inveterate  patriotism  are 
bound  to  enter  the  lists  ;  and  it  is  seldom  that  the 
friendly  talk  ends  without  some  acrimony  on  both 
sides,  each  party  being  intent  on  proving  the 
superiority  of  its   particular  Court  and  Sovereign. 

295 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

The  typical  hof-dame,  however,  only  exists  in 
Germany.  In  England  the  ladies  who  have  the 
honour  of  attending  upon  their  Queen  still  preserve 
sentiments,  opinions,  and  nerves  of  their  own ; 
whereas  German  Court  ladies  soon  become  mere 
machines,  give  themselves  up  blindly  to  their  duty, 
and  preserve  so  little  of  their  individuality  that  it 
is  impossible  to  distinguish  one  of  them  from 
another.  They  are  not  human  beings,  they  are 
mechanical  imitations  bent  upon  maintaining  pro- 
priety and  fine  manners,  with  the  humble  conviction 
that  it  is  an  immense  distance  which  separates  a 
King  from  his  subjects. 

Prince  Henry  of  Battenberg  came  himself  to 
apprise  us  that  tea  would  soon  be  served,  and  he 
showed  us  the  way  to  the  Queen's  drawing-room. 
We  followed  duly  upon  his  steps,  and  when  he 
pushed  open  a  door  we  found  ourselves  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Royal  family.  All  the  Princesses  were 
standing ;  Queen  Victoria  alone  sat  in  a  large  arm- 
chair. She  makes  a  slight  movement  as  we  advance 
towards  her,  and  asks  whether  we  have  not  found 
our  first  day  in  the  Highlands  too  dreary  and  too 
long.  Her  voice  is  clear  though  not  very  strong, 
the  French  syllables  tremble  a  little,  yet  she  speaks 
the  language  well,  with  a  very  slight  accent.  She 
knows  she  can  address  me  in  English  : 

"  Take  a  chair  and  sit  by  my  side,"  she  says, 
waving  the  others  away  and  indicating  a  sofa  not  far 
off.     I  know  that  a  seat  must  be  close  by,  but  I  am 

290 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

short-sighted  and  in  great  confusion,  so  remain 
motionless,  while  Princess  Beatrice,  pitying  my 
embarrassed  countenance,  wheels  round  a  chair  and 
places  me  somewhat  behind  the  Queen  but  still  very 
near,  where  I  shall  be  able  to  see  and  hear  her  every 
movement,  her  very  breathing.  .  .  .  To  hear  the 
breathing  of  a  living  creature,  to  listen  eagerly  for 
the  regular  return  of  that  slight  sound,  has  ever 
impressed  me  with  an  emotion  deeper  than  that 
which  even  the  heaving  of  the  sea,  or  the  pulsations 
of  a  clock,  can  give.  Thus  while  listening  to  the 
faint  movements  of  that  gentle  breast,  my  thoughts 
flew  towards  the  moment  when  millions  would  hang 
anxiously  on  the  feeble  sighs  which  should  announce 
the  approach  of  death.  I  pictured  to  myself  what 
the  nations,  what  the  whole  world,  would  say  when 
the  blood,  stirred  into  action  by  the  weak  breathing 
whose  cadence  now  stirred  my  hair,  would  be  grow- 
ing colder  and  colder,  and  when  the  shadows  of 
mourning  should  fall  upon  kingdoms  and  empires 
heavier  far  than  the  shadows  of  night.  Then  the 
high  meaning,  the  symbolism  of  monarchy  burst 
upon  my  soul  as  I  sat  there  so  near  the  Queen ;  and 
I  smiled  to  see  how  different  from  my  vagrant 
dreams  were  these  surroundings  ;  how  familiar  and 
old-fashioned  the  aspect  of  the  faded  drawing-room, 
the  tints  of  the  huge  furniture  whose  coverings  had 
not  been  changed  for  years  ;  how  quaint  and  even 
rustic    the    few    trifling     objects     decorating    the 

shelves  and  tables.     No  trace  of  grandeur,  no  hint 

297 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

of  the  exalted  state  of  the  illustrious  owner  lurked 
there. 

Through  the  open  window  a  sharp  evening  wind 
was  beginning  to  blow  right  in  our  faces ;  the 
twilight  hour  was  fast  coming.  Still,  the  hills  were 
fair  to  look  upon,  in  the  silvery  rays  of  the  wet 
atmosphere.  The  Queen  of  Roumania  and  the 
Duchess  of  Albany  were  merrily  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  large  music  album  and  pointing  out  their 
favourite  songs  to  a  beautiful  young  girl  who  stood 
by  the  open  piano.  The  unknown  damsel  appeared 
neither  moved  nor  fluttered.  The  firm  and  perfect 
lines  of  her  profile,  her  cold  smile,  and  the  respectful 
silence  with  which  she  received  the  eager  words  of 
the  royal  ladies,  made  a  striking  contrast  with  their 
playful  condescension,  and  I  could  not  make  out 
who  the  girl  was  till  Princess  Beatrice  advanced 
towards  her  mother  and  said : 

"  Mamma,  she  will  sing  three  songs — Elizabeth 
has  chosen  them.  I  am  told  her  voice  is  excellent 
and  very  well  trained." 

"  Is  it  really  so  ^  You  know,  dear,  she  has  to  be 
a  good  singer,  a  perfect  artist,  if  she  sings  before 
Elizabeth,"  answered  Queen  Victoria — and  I  com- 
prehended that  no  small  anxiety  was  felt  by  the 
august  hostess  on  account  of  our  own  Queen's 
musical  gifts  and  reputation. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  you  may  {qqI  perfectly  easy. 
Helen  (the  Duchess  of  Albany)  and  my  husband 
have   heard   her    sing  this   morning.     Is    your    seat 

298 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

comfortable,  mother  ?  Does  not  the  light  disturb 
you  ?  "  And  into  the  eyes  of  the  Princess  Beatrice 
came  a  look  of  unutterable  tenderness  and  solicitude. 
She  was  at  that  time  in  the  prime  of  robust  and 
healthy  womanhood  ;  her  lips  and  her  eyes  spoke  of 
happiness,  and  though  she  could  not  be  called  pretty 
or  fascinating,  had  no  pretensions  whatever  to  either 
of  these  adjectives,  her  cordial  smile,  her  fine  figure, 
her  amiable  conversation,  and  above  all  the  un- 
ceasing care  she  took  to  make  every  one  at  ease  and 
content,  rendered  her  most  attractive. 

'*  Mamma,  don't  you  think  she  should  begin  to 
sing  ? "  she  asked.  "  Just  a  little  song  to  begin 
with  .''  Henry,  go  and  tell  her  to  sing  the  shortest 
of  the  three  little  songs." 

*'  But  Alsa  has  not  come  yet,"  said  the  Queen.  *'  I 
will  have  no  singing  till  Alsa  is  here.  Of  course 
the  young  girl  will  be  as  delighted  to  sing  before 
Alsa  as  before  myself."  The  voice  of  the  Queen 
lingered  caressingly  on  the  name  "  Alsa."  She 
alluded  to  Alexandra,  the  Princess  of  Wales,  and 
as  she  laid  particular  stress  on  the  last  sentences, 
a  sense  of  the  grandeur  which  had  hitherto  been 
missing  in  the  scene,  took  hold  of  me — not  because 
of  mere  affection,  the  attachment  of  a  mother  to  her 
daughter-in-law — but  because  of  this  instinctive 
homage  rendered  by  the  actual  Queen  to  the  future 
Queen-Consort,  a  tribute  of  respect  to  the  Heiress 
of  the  Throne,  the  lady  on  whom  the  hopes  of  the 
realm   were  centred.     The  proud   consciousness   of 

299 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

her  own  grandeur  already  reflected  in  the  grandeur 
of  the  dynasty  lit  up  Queen  Victoria's  eyes  and  gave 
those  few  broken  sentences  a  significance  which  went 
far  beyond  their  apparent  meaning. 

"  Of  course  Alsa  knows  she  must  come — but  as 
Bertie  (the  Prince  of  Wales)  is  going  off  by  the  five 
o'clock  train  and  she  accompanies  him  to  the  station, 
she  will  be  somewhat  late  perhaps.  So,  if  it  please 
you,  the  young  girl  will  sing  immediately." 

"  No  singing  for  the  moment,"  replied  the  Queen. 
"  We  will  wait  for  the  Princess  of  Wales."  And  to 
cut  short  all  further  remark,  while  the  Oueen  of 
Roumania  was  lightly  touching  the  open  pianoforte 
and  delighting  the  Princesses  who  lingered  near  by 
playmg  some  Roumanian  airs,  Queen  Victoria  turned 
her  head  towards  me  and  beckoned  me  to  pull  my 
chair  still  nearer.  There  was  a  gentle  calmness  in 
her  gesture,  in  fact  all  that  happened  appeared  to 
be  at  the  same  time  as  strange  and  as  familiar  as 
those  dreams  whose  memory  takes  us  back  to  the 
spots  we  have  cherished  and  are  sure  never  to  see 
again. 

Her  Majesty  questioned  me  closely  as  to  my 
musical  tastes  and  preferences.  When  I  mentioned 
that  my  favourite  composers  were  Mozart  and 
Wagner  : 

"  How  wide  apart  lie  your  ideals  !  "  she  said.  "  I 
am  so  fond  of  music  myself;  and  I  love  reading  the 
biography  of  the  great  musicians.  They  have  all 
had  such  sad  and  thrilling  experiences.      I  have  till 

300 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

quite  lately  played  on  the  piano  and  even  practised 
whenever  I  found  time  enough  to  do  so,  because  I 
always  remember  the  happy  days  when  my  darling 
husband  used  to  open  the  instrument  himself  and 
lead  me  to  the  music  stool  and  then  find  a  book  of 
Mendelssohn — he  loved  Mendelssohn — and  point 
out  the  passages  he  wanted  to  hear.  Now  I  am  rather 
ashamed  to  play,  I  am  such  an  old  woman.  One 
day  one  of  my  youngest  granddaughters  caught  me 
practising  and  laughed  outright.  '  Why,  grand- 
mamma,' she  said,  '  how  can  you  practise  now,  and 
what  for } '  Her  remark  struck  me.  .  .  I  left  off 
playing  for  some  time.  But  then  you  see  my  dear 
husband  taught  me  to  love  all  things  beautiful  and 
good — I  learnt  to  seek  them  for  his  sake — now  I 
return  to  them  often  in  memory  of  him.  You 
cannot  guess  to  what  extent  my  life  is  interwoven 
with  the  life  of  the  dead.  I  only  feel  alive  when  in 
close  communion  with  the  dead.  My  prayers  lead 
me  toward  them.  Their  spirits  and  their  power 
guide  me.  I  am  sure  that  the  dead  we  have  loved 
pray  constantly  on  behalf  of  the  living  !  " 

I  then  took  occasion  to  relate  to  Her  Majesty 
how  touching  and  true  was  the  love  which  the 
villagers  in  Roumania  bestow  on  their  dead,  and 
how  many  touching  ceremonies  and  songs  point  out 
this  particular  trait  of  our  national  instincts.  The 
Queen  said  : 

"  I  am  beginning  to  get  quite  fond  of  Roumania. 
Roumania  is  happy  indeed  to  possess  such  a  Queen 

301 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  1  HAVE  KNOWN 

as  yours  is.  I  never  could  have  believed  before 
meeting  her  that  I  was  liable  to  get  so  rapidly 
attached  to  a  mere  stranger.  Everything  she  says 
and  does  is  charming ;  I  am  so  attracted  by  her 
goodness,  her  intelligence — and  what  a  voice  she 
has  !  She  must  be  idolised  in  your  country,  is  she 
not .?  I  beg  of  you  to  tell  all  who  take  any  interest 
in  your  visit  to  Scotland  that  I  admire  your  Queen 
exceedingly.  I  want  her  and  her  subjects  to  know 
it.  I  am  not  of  an  enthusiastic  nature,  nor  does  my 
temperament  impel  me  to  exaggerate.  This  time  I 
am  enthusiastic  and  eloquent — how  queer  the  words 
sound  on  my  lips  those  who  have  not  lived  by  my 
side  cannot  understand." 

The  light  blue  eyes  looked  more  and  more 
deeply  into  mine,  as  if  they  sought  in  my  soul  the 
secrets  of  my  race  and  of  the  distant  land  from  which 
I  came.  "  Tell  me  more  about  Roumania,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  a  country  whose  mysteries  authors  and  guide- 
books have  not  yet  exhausted,  I  am  astonished 
that  British  travellers  do  not  oftener  seek  pleasure 
and  exotic  surroundings  in  your  country.  Do  write 
a  book  on  Roumania — invite  the  English  to  your 
native  land  ;  they  do  so  much  good  to  all  the 
countries  whose  climate  and  scenery  lure  them  to 
long  excursions  and  frequent  visits.  Just  think 
how  much  Italy  and  Switzerland  owe  to  the  English. 
Do  invite  them  to  the  banks  of  the  Danube — I 
would  be  so  pleased  to  observe  the  result,  and  I  have 
many  reasons  for  wishing  it.     They  like  best  those 

302 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

parts  of  the  globe  in  which  they  can  either  create 
history,  or  call  to  life  again  historical  deeds  of  long- 
forgotten  days.  So  search  your  records  well  through, 
stir  up  your  sleeping  heroes,  and  the  English  will 
come  to  you.  But  you  must  also  offer  them  trout- 
fishing  and  mountain  climbing  as  an  induce- 
ment. .  .  .  Some  of  your  national  legends  remind 
me  of  Indian  folk-lore.  I  am  studying  Hindustani 
just  now.  Don't  laugh — I  am  very  old,  but  I  have 
always  lived  up  to  a  precept  which  I  advise  you  to 
remember :  We  must  always  live  as  if  we  were 
immortal." 

In  my  opinion  all  the  power  and  the  happiness 
of  Queen  Victoria's  life  and  influence  are  explained 
in  those  words.  With  a  quiet,  melancholy  smile 
she  added  : 

"  Then  death  will  come  to  us  like  a  radiant 
surprise,  a  most  wonderful  and  unlooked-for  boon  ; 
then  will  the  joy  of  seeing  again  those  we  have 
loved  be  most  startling  and  complete." 

A  slight  rustling,^  a  soft  sound  filled  the  room, 
and  Queen  Victoria  tried  to  rise  as  she  sought  the 
help  of  her  thick  ebony  walking-cane.  All  the 
other  persons  were  standing,  as,  beautifully  clad  in 
a  dark  red  velvet  gown,  her  small  head  illumined  by 
a  haze  of  gold,  the  Princess  of  Wales  advanced. 
The  swan-like  whiteness  of  her  visage  and  bare  arms 
were  visible  in  the  dimness  of  the  silvery  twilight  as, 
with  steps  that  glided  as  softly  as  the  sea  foam  on 
the  beach,  she  came  to  the  aged  Queen,  and  after 

303 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

fondly  embracing  her,  arranged  the  folds  of  the 
black  dress  and  replaced  the  ebony  cane  on  the  arm 
of  the  chair.     Her  mother-in-law  said  in  low  tones  : 

"  Dear  child,  we  have  been  looking  forward  to 
your  presence.  I  have  invited  a  young  and  lovely 
Irish  girl  to  sing  us  some  Irish  songs.  Beatrice  says 
she  has  an  excellent  voice,  and  I  want  Elizabeth  to 
be  pleased.  We  are  one  and  all  delighted  with 
Elizabeth.  But  I  am  talking  away  and  the  girl 
must  begin  to  sing." 

Then  the  young  voice  went  forth  pure  and  power- 
ful, while  all  the  rest  of  the  room  lay  in  darkness; 
two  candles  only  flickered  on  the  piano  and  stood 
out  like  big  pins  of  light.  The  harmony  wandered 
on,  like  a  rush  of  warriors  in  the  glare  of  the  rising 
sun,  then  moaned  over  the  bleeding  throng,  and 
returned  bruised  and  weary  under  the  cold  gaze  of 
the  moon.  Ever  and  anon  a  piercing  cry  came  from 
the  musician's  lips.  These  were  songs  of  wild  re- 
bellious Erin  she  was  singing;  the  clamour  of  her  soul 
shrieking  for  liberty  was  lifted  up  in  woe.  A  solemn 
stillness  had  fallen  upon  the  august  listeners,  on  the 
group  of  mighty  ladies  and  lords,  as  the  voice  threw 
out  its  imperious  flood  of  protestation  and  defiance, 
thrusting  its  music  into  the  silence  of  that  hallowed 
room  as  with  daggers,  like  the  flashes  of  a  spear. 

We  all  knew  that  the  hour  was  one  of  great 
import  to  the  young  singer,  perhaps  the  hour  which 
would  decide  all  her  after-life,  the  culminating-point 
of  her  career,  her  fate.     She  sang  in  the  presence  of 

304 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

her  Queen  ;  and  as  the  silvery  notes  rang  through  the 
azure  twilight,  we  thought  we  could  hear  the  mad 
throbbings  of  her  heart,  the  beatings  of  her  blood 
against  temples  and  veins.  All  at  once  the  head- 
long cadence  fell  and  died  away.  A  few  words  were 
murmured,  words  carefully  uttered  in  hushed  tones 
amid  the  empty  spaces,  so  that  the  contrast  between 
the  Irish  girl's  excitement,  the  extraordinary  force 
and  talent  she  had  displayed,  and  the  apparent  cold- 
ness with  which  her  rendering  of  the  song  was 
received,  would  have  seemed  cruel  had  not  the 
Princess  of  Wales  approached  and  said  some  kind 
words  of  congratulation  to  the  beautiful  artist,  whose 
strikingly  hard,  audacious  profile  seemed  cut  out 
clearly  by  the  side  of  the  soft  fair  visage  that  smiled 
encouragingly  and  voiced  thanks  for  all. 

"  Carmen  Sylva  "  in  her  turn  said  :  "How  well  you 
sing,  madame ;  and  how  very  near  your  heart  this 
music  must  be,  because  I  cannot  suppose  any  one 
could  offer  us  a  nobler  specimen  of  the  Irish  fervour 
and  emotions." 

The  lamps  had  now  been  brought,  but  large 
shades  prevented  them  from  bathing  the  whole  room 
with  light,  and  most  of  the  people  present  remained 
invisible.  Suddenly,  in  loud  distinct  tones,  Queen 
Victoria  said : 

*'  I  want  to  hear  '  The  Wearing  of  the  Green.'  " 

The  title  bore  no  significance  whatever  to  our  ears, 

but  an  uncomfortable  murmur  floated  through  the 

audience,  and  I  could  even  discern  a  few  whispered 

305 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

words  such  as  :  "  Oh,  no,  impossible  .  .  .  here 
.  .   ."     However,  the  Queen  repeated  her  request. 

*'Sing  that  song,  please.  I  wish  to  hear  it  very 
much  indeed.     Will  you  do  that  for  me  .?  " 

*'  Yes,  madame,"  answered  the  beautiful  Irish  girl 
firmly.  Her  face  was  set,  and  her  eyes  shone  with  a 
strange  glow.  From  the  very  instant  she  began  to 
sing  I  grasped  the  meaning  of  the  constraint  and 
uneasiness  with  which  the  Queen's  proposition  had 
been  received.  In  the  full  glare  of  a  neighbouring 
lamp  the  lovely  young  woman,  whose  features  were 
now  fully  revealed  in  the  glory  of  an  audacious  per- 
fection, began  to  sing.  Her  voice  swelled  out  in 
accents  as  fiery  and  glowing  as  the  flames  of  lurid 
torches,  as  furious  as  the  harsh  cries  of  multitudes 
raised  up  by  wrath  to  a  pitch  of  passion  ;  fearful 
indeed,  but  magnificent. 

The  song  she  sang  was  a  popular  anthem,  a 
shriek  for  mercy  and  pity,  a  defiant  challenge  from 
the  weak  to  the  strong — something  startling  and 
appalling  like  a  thunderbolt  that  falls  on  the  bosom 
of  the  tempestuous  sea  and  awakens  thousands  of 
echoes  from  its  billows.  All  these  waves  of  venge- 
ance, all  the  cries,  ail  the  withering  rage  which  that 
young  voice  poured  forth,  came  to  die  like  foam  at 
the  feet  of  the  quiet  Queen.  Once  again  I  saw  that 
peculiar  expression  in  her  eyes,  that  expression  of 
clearness  and  limpidity,  as  if  those  eyes  were  made  of 
fresh  air  and  water  and  could  blow  away  or  wipe  out 

each  tear,  all  anguish,  every  one  of  the  complaints 

306 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

uttered  by  the  desperate  song.  It  was  evidently 
hastening  towards  its  end — the  stanzas  quickened 
their  faltering  pace,  and  each  measure  was  full  to  the 
brim  of  vehement  desire  for  justice  and  victory. 
We  were  then  one  and  all  wrapped  up  in  the  same 
thought  :  what  would  we  say  after  the  young  girl 
had  ceased — who  would  dare  to  break  the  silence 
this  time  ?     What  would  follow  ? 

When  the  dreaded  pause  came  we  almost  held 
our  breath  ;  no  word  was  spoken,  no  sound  heard. 
Then  an  incident,  unexpected  as  it  was  charming, 
took  place.  With  dignified  yet  affectionate  alacrity 
the  Queen  of  Roumania  came  over  and  knelt  by  the 
side  of  Queen  Victoria's  huge  chair,  and  taking  both 
her  hands  caressingly  between  her  own,  said  : 

*'  What  a  very  great  Queen  you  must  be,  and  how 
sure  of  the  affection  of  your  subjects,  to  be  able  to 
hear  such  a  song  sung  in  your  presence !  In  fact, 
were  you  not  really  a  great  Queen,  no  one  would 
have  dared  to  obey  you  to-day." 

"  But  the  song  is  splendid,"  said  Queen  Victoria, 
"  and  I  wanted  you  to  hear  it.  Besides,  I  am  very 
fond  of  the  Irish,  you  may  be  sure  of  that ;  "  then, 
turning  towards  the  young  girl,  "  I  thank  you  with 
all  my  heart,  my  dear.  You  have  given  me  great 
pleasure  and  been  the  occasion  of  my  receiving  from 
the  Queen  of  Roumania  a  compliment  which  I  shall 
never  forget." 

At  dinner  that  evening  I  was  seated  by  the  side  of 
the   Duke   of  Clarence,    not    far  from   the    Queen, 

307 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

whose  right-hand  neighbour  was  *' Carmen  Sylva." 
The  Princess  of  Wales  beamed  radiantly  upon  us 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  on  the  left  of  her 
Royal  mother-in-law.  Queen  Victoria  spoke  little, 
but  followed  the  conversation  with  evident  interest. 

"Mamma,"  said  the  Princess  of  Wales,  "look 
well  at  Mdlle.  Vacaresco,  and  try  to  remember 
who  she  is  like — remember  Florence  and  the  ladies 
you  have  seen  there.  /  judge  of  the  likeness  from  a 
photograph." 

Queen  Victoria's  glance  rested  on  my  face.  "  Yes, 
Alsa  dear,  I  see  what  or  rather  who  you  mean. 
But  would  Mdlle.  Vacaresco  care  about  resembling 
that  lady — almost  one  of  her  own  countrywomen  .? 
I  have  noticed  when  abroad  that  people  belonging  to 
the  same  race  appear  to  be  very  like  each  other." 

*'  The  lady  that  we  allude  to  is  very  handsome," 
said  the  Princess  of  Wales  to  me  with  ready  tact, 
*'  so  you  need  not  be  offended." 

"Surely,  dear,  that  lady  is  handsome — much 
handsomer  than  you,  my  child.  I  guess  you  already 
know  to  whom  I  refer.  Yet  I  read  disappointment 
in  your  face.  You  do  not  like  the  idea  of  being 
compared  to  her." 

I  bowed  in  mute  acquiescence.  The  Queen  con- 
tinued. 

"  Her  face  is  beautiful,  it  is  true,  but  it  lacks  life 
and  expression,  which  yours  does  not,  though  it  is 
less  striking  and  harmonious.  And  you  prefer 
wearing  your  soul   in   your  face  to   any  perfection 

308 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

mere  beauty  can  confer — I  would  do  the  same  in 
your  place.  I  do  not  like  vacuous  or  expressionless 
faces  ;  yet  the  ideal  in  England  and  most  of  the 
northern  countries  is  in  favour  of  a  countenance 
which  is  drilled  to  hide  every  emotion,  even  the 
natural  curiosity  of  an  intellect  athirst  for  knowledge 
and  comprehension.  The  southern  poets  would 
laugh  outright  at  our  heroines,  whose  secret  aspira- 
tions no  one  can  read  in  face  or  gesture." 

When  we  passed  into  the  drawing-room  after  the 
meal,  the  conversation  around  us  waxed  rapid  and 
full  of  spirit,  though  in  a  key  of  discreet  undertone. 
Lord  Rosse  was  at  that  moment  the  Minister  in 
attendance  on  the  Queen,  and  told  us  how  hard  he 
had  worked  with  her  Majesty  in  the  morning,  as  he 
was  the  one  member  in  the  Cabinet  who  had  the 
management  of  the  Indies.  "  So  you  are  the 
Ministre  pour  les  Indes^'  said  I.  "  Oh  !  then  you 
might  accomplish  my  warmest  dream.  I  wish  to  be 
Vice-Queen  of  the  Indies  in  my  own  right,  if  only 
for  a  few  days.  I  want  to  ride  on  a  white  elephant, 
who  would  kneel  to  drink  in  the  Ganges ;  to  see  the 
land  of  splendour  and  diamonds,  the  land  of  fakirs 
and  innumerable  temples.  Oh,  I  have  hesitated 
long  between  the  fascinations  of  the  extremely 
modern  and  the  excessively  old  civilisations,  the 
two  opposite  poles  of  the  world  as  to  history  and 
religion.  I  had  ardently  desired  to  become  Empress 
of  the  United  States,  Empress   of  North  America 

altogether.     But  since  I  am  here,  and  such  a  good 

309  T 


KINGS  AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

opportunity  is  offered  me,  why  I  prefer  the 
Indies." 

At  this  Lord  Rosse  laughed,  and  we  took  up  the 
sentence  and  repeated  the  words  :  "  Empress  of  the 
United  States  !  "  in  tones  so  loud  that  all  the  com- 
pany were  startled,  and  to  our  great  confusion  our 
Queen  put  a  finger  on  her  lips,  while  the  Princess  of 
Wales  smiled  approval,  saying  : 

*'  Oh,  no,  do  not  stop,  the  Queen  likes  young 
people  to  be  merry.  Look,  here  is  my  mother,  who 
is  coming  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  your  mirth." 

Surely,  the  Princess  was  right.  Queen  Victoria 
herself  came  up  to  Lord  Rosse  and  asked  : 

"  What  have  these  little  girls  been  saying  which 
makes  you  all  so  gay,  Lord  Rosse  ?  May  I  not 
know  }  " 

"  Certainly,  madam,  here  is  a  young  lady  who 
desires  me  to  ask  your  Majesty  to  nominate  her 
Vice-Queen  of  the  Indies  for  a  few  days,  or  even  a 
few  hours." 

*'  What  for  ?  "  asked  the  Queen,  in  an  amused  and 
eager  way. 

I  explained  to  her  my  childish  day-dream,  and 
how  often  I  had  longed  to  see  and  thoroughly  ex- 
plore that  distant  realm  of  light,  the  empire  whose 
gentle,  placid  Empress  stood  before  me,  modestly 
clad  in  a  plain  black  silk  gown. 

"  These  stones  are  from  India,"  said  the  Queen, 

as  she  pointed  to  the  huge  diamond  necklace  which 

glittered  on  her  bosom.     *'  A  gift  from  the  town  of 

310 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

Bombay.  You  are  right,  my  child,"  she  continued. 
"  Like  you,  I  too  have  longed  to  see  those  lands  so 
far  away  and  so  marvellous.  I  am  the  ruler,  but  no 
more  than  you  have  I  enjoyed  the  sight  of  my 
subjects,  of  the  beautiful  cities  with  their  rivers 
where  big  elephants  kneel  to  drink.  Your  wish 
must  be  granted.  You  are  a  poet,  so  you  will  have 
all  that  you  desire.  Sleep  quietly  this  night,  and 
while  you  sleep  I  will  sign  an  invisible  decree  which 
will  give  you  the  power  to  fly  towards  the  distant 
paradise  of  your  dreams  and  be  a  queen  there,  and 
you  shall  play  with  the  birds  and  rubies  and  feel  you 
possess  them  all,  much  more  than  I  possess  them 
myself." 

"  Is  your  Majesty  aware,"  interposed  Lord  Rosse, 
"  that  Mdlle.  Vacaresco  had  just  thought  also  of 
becoming  Empress  of  the  United  States  ?  " 

*'  Oh,  what  a  singular,  what  an  unexpected  title  !  " 
exclaimed  the  Queen.  "  I  am  gratified  to  have 
heard  these  extraordinary  words  coupled  together  : 
Empress — United  States.  Is  it  a  presage  ^  Oh, 
how  could  it  come  about  ?  The  United  States  and 
Empire  !  Could  you  live  to  see  that  ^ "  The  Queen 
stood  dumb-struck,  plunged  in  serious  thought, 
then  turned  away  slowly,  still  murmuring  :  "  Em- 
press of  the  United  States — what  an  extraordinary 
idea !  What  a  title,  is  it  a  prophecy  }  the  United 
States  a  monarchy  !  " 

"  My  mother  wishes  you  to  remember  all  your 
life  that   you  spent  your  birthday  with  her,"  said 

311 


KINGS   AND  QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Princess  Beatrice  next  morning,  as  I  entered  her 
drawing-room,  "Your  Queen  has  told  us  that  this 
is  your  birthday.  .  ."  and  the  Princess  pointed  to  a 
big  volume  on  the  table,  "  This  is  the  Queen's 
Journal.  She  has  written  a  dedication  and  her 
autograph  on  the  flyleaf." 

I  ran  up  to  my  room  with  my  treasure.  In  the 
corridor  I  was  startled  to  meet  Queen  Victoria  her- 
self, and  I  endeavoured  to  thank  her. 

"  Please  don't,"  said  the  Queen.  "  I  have  a  boon 
to  ask  from  you.  I  want  you  to  write  some  verses 
of  yours  in  an  album,  verses  appropriate  to  the  book. 
But  I  am  keeping  you  here.  Run  upstairs ;  you 
must  have  letters  to  write,  and  I  also  am  in  a  hurry." 

"  My  maid  is  lucky  to-day,  madam,"  said  I. 
"  She  has  had  but  one  idea  since  she  left  Roumania 
— to  catch  a  glimpse  of  Queen  Victoria  ;  and  there 
she  is  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  looking  at  your 
Majesty  with  greedy  eyes," 

"  I  will  say  a  word  to  her,  poor  thing;"  and  before 
I  could  prevent  the  Queen  from  taking  so  much 
trouble,  she  had  briskly  walked  towards  the  terrified 
maid,  and  was  actually  saying  to  her : 

"  I  have  come  to  ask  you  whether  you  like  my 
home,  and  if  you  have  all  you  require  here." 

The  woman,  whose  utterance  was  choked  by  tears 
of  gratitude,  could  find  no  answer  ;  and  when  the 
Queen  turned  to  go  she  saw  that  my  own  eyes  were 
moist  at  being  witness  to  an  act  of  such  gracious 
sympathy. 

3>2 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

The  Queen  took  leave  of  us  in  the  evening.  "  We 
shall  see  very  little  of  each  other  to-morrow  morning. 
Do  not  forget  Balmoral.  I  will  send  my  album  up 
to  your  room,  and  remember  that  what  you  write  in 
it  will  create  a  lasting  link  between  the  ancient 
Queen  of  England  and  the  girl  poet  of  Roumania." 

I  sat  alone  in  my  chamber  pondering  over  the 
events  of  the  past  two  days,  and  felt  a  pang  at  the 
thought  of  leaving  this  hospitable  dwelling.  Around 
me,  one  by  one,  the  inmates  of  the  Castle  were 
sinking  to  sleep.  There  I  stood  in  the  darkness 
with  clasped  hands  and  a  heart  full  of  reverence  and 
regret. 

A  slight  tap  at  the  door  aroused  me,  and  a  foot- 
man walked  in,  bearing  a  black  leather  book.  A 
tiny  key  fell  from  its  lock  as  I  tried  to  open  it.  I 
lit  my  lamp  and  entered  into  communion  with  the 
slumbering  souls  whose  memory  lingered  within  its 
covers.  The  book  was  a  cemetery,  and  as  the 
passing  winds  arouse  the  murmur  of  leaves  above 
the  graves,  so  as  I  turned  these  pages  a  rustling 
sound  awakened  the  dead.  I  knew  them  almost  all 
by  name.  Here  was  the  Emperor  Frederick  III ., 
his  last  letter  and  his  tomb ;  here,  too,  the  Grand 
Duchess  of  Hesse,  verses  written  by  her  hand,  and 
several  letters  from  her  ;  here  also  memorial  stones 
were  represented  which  bore  the  names  of  all  those 
whom  the  Queen  had  mourned  and  loved — the  same 
tribute  was  paid  to  the  humblest  as  to  the  greatest. 
A  fewjverses  from  "  In  Memoriam  "  were  written  in 

313 


KINGS  AND   QUEENS  I  HAVE  KNOWN 

Tennyson's  own  hand  ;  a  tender  missive  from  the 
mother  of  the  Queen  to  her  daughter ;  withered 
flowers,  a  tuft  of  heather  taken  from  the  wedding 
bouquet  presented  by  Prince  Albert  to  his  wife,  and 
two  of  the  flowers  that  had  been  placed  under  his 
hand  before  he  was  laid  in  his  coflin — all  the  homage 
rendered  by  a  soul  at  anchor  in  the  harbours  of  faith 
and  hope,  to  the  souls  who  travel  and  float  in  eternal 
bliss,  was  visible  on  the  pages  of  that  moving  little 
book.  My  whole  night  was  spent  in  its  perusal ; 
this  small  volume  gave  the  final  touches  to  the 
portrait  of  Queen  Victoria  which  was  to  remain  for 
ever  in  my  mind.   .   .   . 

"  You  have  written  exactly  what  I  would  have  liked 
you  to  write,"  she  said  when  I  stooped  over  her  hand 
next  morning  in  the  white  hall  of  Balmoral  Castle, 
and  her  Majesty  gently  kissed  my  forehead,  saying, 
"Thank  you  for  their  sake  and  for  mine." 

So  we  passed  away  from  the  stately  but  homelike 
Castle.  The  mists  were  so  thin  that  the  whole 
landscape  danced  before  our  eyes.  I  turned  my 
'  head  to  look  behind  and  kept  my  gaze  fixed  on  the 
massive  tower  where  the  standard  of  England 
floated. 

Something  was  working  in  my  thoughts,  some- 
thing that  waved  to  and  fro  like  that  glorious 
standard  whose  vivid  colour  soared  so  high.  Some- 
thing spoke  in  my  heart,  and  questioning  said : 
*'  Have  I  not  seen  two  women  in  one,  two  queens  in 
a  single  queen  .''  and  which  of  these  two  women  do 

3H 


QUEEN  VICTORIA 

the  English  most  revere  ?  The  grandmother,  ever 
ready  to  receive  and  distribute  affection,  or  the  quiet 
guardian  of  the  little  cemetery,  that  small  black 
book  I  had  loved  so  much  :  and  which  of  the  two 
queens  is  the  truest  queen — the  one  who  toils  till 
midnight,  till  the  abundant  oil  in  her  lamp  is  spent, 
allowing  no  fault  or  flaw  in  her  government  to  be 
overlooked,  or  the  indulgent  sovereign  who  listened 
in  serene  enjoyment  to  the  rebellious  song  that  had 
endeavoured  to  kindle  revolution  ?  " 

I  had  seen  two  women  in  one,  two  queens  in  a 
single  queen. 


INDEX 


Abergeldie,  78 

Albert  Edward  Prince  of  Wales — 
see  Edward  VII. 

Alexander  I.  of  Russia,  143,  147 

Alexander  II.  of  Russia,  146 

Alexander  III.  of  Russia,  151 

Alexander  of  Servia  :  The  memor- 
able tragedy,  255,  273,  des- 
cribed by  "  Madam  Draga," 
271  ;  learning  to  waltz,  272 

Alfonso  XIII.  of  Spain  :  His  ap- 
pearance, 218;  early  training, 
219 ;  necessary  qualities  of  a 
Spanish  King,  220 ;  Royal 
stables,  221  ;  his  infancy,  224  ; 
boyish  pursuits,  229 ;  a  real 
King  of  Spain,  232 

America,  251,  309 

American  women,  251 

Arabia,  122 

Aranjuez,  224 

Austrian  Court,  94 

Austrian  Imperial  vault,  108 

Balmoral,  71,  81,  294 

Belgrade,  256,  263,  271 

Berlin,  17,  132 

Biarritz,  271 

Biebrick,  9 

Bourbons,  214,  21S 

Bucharest,  195,  196,  201,  258,  260 

Budapesth,  34 

Bullfights,  220,  229 

CAPnciNER  Grdft — sec   Austrian 

Imperial  vault 
Carlsbad,  259 
"Carmen  Sylva  " — see  Queen  of 

Roumania 
Carpathians — see  Karpathians 
Catherine  Constantinovitch,  257 
Charles  V.  of  Spain,  92 


Cologne,  17 

Court  Life:  Scandal  and  intrigue, 
35:  Royal  visits,  51,  126; 
etiquette  of  the  Austrian  Court, 
94  ;  Roumanian  Court,  129 ; 
Italian  Court,  171  ;  Spanish 
Court,  217  ;  Court  of  Holland, 
249  ;  Roman  Pontifical  Court, 
281  ;  "red  carpet  and  white 
gloves,"  292  ;  ladies  of  honour 
and  international  etiquette,  295  ; 
German  Court,  296 

Crimean  War,  146 

Czar — see  Nicholas  II.  of  Russia 

Czarina,  70,  156 

Danube,  23,  134,  140,  255 

Darmstadt,  162 

Divine  Right  of  Kings,  192 

Duchess  of  Albany,  298 

Duke  of  Luxembourg,  g 

Duke  Philibert  "  the  handsome," 

189,  190 
Duke  of  Reichstadt,  105,  109 
Dutch  Court  Ceremonies,  249 

Education  of  Princes,  219 
Edward  VII. :  Visit  to  Roumania 

when     Prince    of    Wales,   51  ; 

fondness  for  dogs,  62  ;  converses 

on  the  happiness  of  princes,  66  ; 

coronation,  67  ;   a  true  British 

Monarch,  220 
Emperor  of  Austria  (Franz  Josef)  : 

His  chequered  career,  89  ;    his 

fortitude,  93  ;   death  of  Prince 

Rudolf,  103  ;  calls  on  the  Queen 

of  Roumania,  106 
Empress  of  Austria   (Elizabeth), 

34,  69,  91,  93,  109,  112 
Empress  Maria  Theresa  of  Austria, 

108 


317 


INDEX 


Empress  of  Russia — see  Czarina 
English  as  the  language  of  Courts, 

131 
English  Court  ceremonies,  80 
Escurial,  213,  217 
Etiquette — see  Court  Life 
Etruscan  relics,  209 

Fanny  Modchard,  21,  22 
Ferdinand,  Emperor  of  Austria, 

108 
Florence,  122,  208 
France  and  Kaiser  Wilhelm  II., 

124 
French  Court  under  Napoleon  III., 

French  Revolution,  21 

German  Codrt,  296 
German  Ladies  of  Honour,  296 
German  Women,  199 
Grand  Duchess  Helena  of  Russia, 
II,  13 

Hagde,  248,  252 
Hapsbourg  Family,  218,  221 
Highland  reel  at  Balmoral,  81 
Humbert,  King  of  Italy,  170,  191 

India,  72,  154,  156,  310 
Ireland,  78 
Italian  Court,  171 
Italian  Renaissance,  2,  136 

Jerdsalem, 202 
Joseph  II.  of  Austria,  108 
Josephine,  wife  of  Napoleon  I.,  5, 
126 

Karpathians,  3,  67,  72 
Kief,  145 
Kruger,  251 

London, 174 

Louis  XIV.   of  France,   120,  155, 
187 

Madrid,  213,  215 

Margherita  di  Savoia,  189 

Marie  Catargi,  257 

Marie    Louise,    Archduchess    of 

Austria,  log 
Maximilian,  92 
Mejerling,  98,  255 


:    Milan,  King  of  Servia,  257,  259 
I    Miramar,  70,  226,  229 

Moscow,  145 

Murat,  22,  126 

Naples,  122,  191 
Napoleon  I.,  126,  133,  143 
Napoleon  III.,  i^ 
Nicholas  I.  of  Russia,  143,  146 
Nicholas  II.  of  Russia:  Favourite 
pursuits,  154  ;  interest  in  India, 
154,   156;    love  of  travel,  154; 
personal  appearance,  155  ;  mar- 
riage,   156  ;     intercourse   with 
English  cousins,  156 
Nihilism,  147 

Oerenovitch  Family,  256,  257 

Palais  Michel,  12 

Palermo,  185 

Panslavism,  151 

Paris,  199,  268 

Parthenon,  122 

Philip  II.  of  Spain,  123,  145,  214, 
216,  224 

Pierre  Loti,  177,  229 

Pisa,  205,  207 

Plevna,  45,  147,  148 

Pope  Leo  XIII. ;  Receives  Tuscan 
pilgrims,  278 ;  ceremonies  of 
the  Pontifical  Court,  280  ;  his 
immaculate  dress  and  appear- 
ance, 282,  284  ;  St.  Peter's  ring, 
282  ;  "  the  true  fold,"  284  ;  doc- 
trine of  infallibility,  285 ;  as 
poet,  2S5  ;  his  love  of  the  poor, 
2S7 

Prince  Charles  of  Hohenzollern- 
Sigmaringen  (afterwards  King 
of  Roumania),  17  ;  his  ancestry, 
21,  22,  126 

Prince  Henry  of  Battenberg,  294 

Prince  Henry  of  Mecklenburg- 
Schwerin,  250 

Prince  Otto  of  Wied,  10 

Prince  Rudolf  of  Austria,  91,  98, 
100,  102,  108,  255 

Princess  Beatrice,  297 

Princess  Christian  of  Schleswig- 
Holstein,   110,160,255 

Princess  Elizabeth  of  Wied,  7 — 
see  also  Queen  of  Roumania 

Princess  Henry  of  Prussia,  158 


318 


INDEX 


Princess  Irene  of  Prussia,  159 
Princess  Mary  of  Wied,  10 
Princess  Victoria  of  Battenberg, 

161,  163 
Princess  of  Wales  (Alexandra) — 

see  Queen  Alexandra 

Queen  Alexandra,  71  ;  love  of 
poetry,  72,  85 ;  admires  Rou- 
manian costumes,  75;  knowledge 
of  English  and  Scottish  popular 
lore,  78  J  death  of  Prince  Albert 
Victor,  84 ;  coronation,  86 ; 
with  Queen  Victoria  at  Bal- 
moral, 299 

Queen  Draga  of  Servia :  The  mem- 
orable tragedy,  255,  273  ;  at  a 
Paris  garden  party,  268 ;  her 
devotion  to  Queen  Nathalie,  269 

Queen  Emma  of  Holland,  239,  241, 
246 

Queen  Helena  of  Italy,  70 

Queen  Juana  la  Loca  of  Spain,  92, 
222 

Queen  Margherita  of  Italy  :  Her 
appearance,  70,168,171;  beloved 
of  her  people,  169  ;  etiquette  of 
Italian  Court,  171  ;  visits  Queen 
of  Roumania,  177 ;  describes 
Italian  people,  181 ;  training  her 
son,  191 

Queen  Maria  Christina  of  Spain  : 
Her  character,  70 ;  training  of 
Alphonso  XIII,,  219;  love  of 
poetry,  226  ;  conversation,  228 

Queen  Mercedes  of  Spain,  224 

Queen  Nathalie  of  Servia,  263, 269 

Queen  of  Roumania  ("  Carmen 
Sylva"):  Her  varied  pursuits, 
2,  30 ;  her  crown,  5  ;  early  life, 
6  ;  visit  to  the  Russian  Court, 
II  ;  the  French  Court  and  Napo- 
leon III.,  13  ;  her  father's  death, 
14  ;  her  marriage,  15  ;  betrothal, 
19 ;  Castel  Polesch  at  Sinaia,  27; 
her  poetry,  31,  69 ;  visit  to  Eliza- 
beth, Empress  of  Austria,  34  ; 
love  of  music,  35  ;  punishes  her 
maids  of  honour,  37 ;  death  of 
her  infant,  41 ;  nursing  the  sick 
during  the  Russo  -  Roumano- 
Turkish  War,  45  ;  prepares  tab- 
leaux vivants  for  the  Prince 
of  Wales  — Edward  VII.,   54; 


Rudolf  of  Austria's  visit,  94; 
Queen  Nathalie's  visit,  265 

Queen  Sophia  of  Naples,  94 

Queen  of  Sweden,  9 

Queen  Victoria :  Her  views  on 
Court  ceremonies,  80  ;  love  for 
Princess  Alexandra,  80,  299  ;  her 
last  hours,  84  ;  kindness  and  in- 
tellectual power,  291  ;  "  Carmen 
Sylva's  "  visit,  292  ;  her  appear- 
ance, 295  ;  simple  tastes  at  Bal- 
moral, 297  ;  love  of  music,  300  ; 
Prince  Consort,  301  ;  studying 
Hindustani,  303  ;  "  the  Wearing 
of  the  Green,"  305 ;  wish  to  visit 
India,  311 

Queen  Wilhelmina  of  Holland : 
Birth  and  parentage,  235,  238  ; 
descendant  of  William  ofOrange. 
23S  ;  childhood,  240  ;  training, 
243  ;  dislike  to  incognita,  244  ; 
excursion  down  the  Rhine,  244; 
death  of  her  father,  247  ;  her 
studies,  247  ;  coronation,  249  ; 
her  betrothal  and  marriage, 249; 
personal  characteristics,  250 ; 
visit  of  Kruger,  251 

Rhine,  2,  7, 9,  11,  14,  no,  244,  247 
Roman  Catholic  Church  in  Rou- 
mania, 281,  284,  286 
Roman  Pontifical  Court,  280 
Rome,  83,  167,  170,  180,  182,  277, 

286 
Roumania   and   the^  British   tra- 
veller, 302 
Roumanian  costumes  and  manners, 

23,  74,  197 
Roumanian  Court,  35,  ig6 
Roumanian  folk-lore  and  ballads, 

31,  113,  133.  139 
Royal  love  marriages,  16 
Russian  Church,  145 
Russian  Court,  12 
Russo-Roumano-Turkish  War,  45, 

147 

Savoy,  House  of,  186,  187,  188 
Scheveningen,  252 
Schonbrunn,  105,  106,  loS 
Sicily,  122 

Sigmaringen,  125,  135 
Spanish  Court,  217 
Spanish  bullfights,  220,  229 


319 


INDEX 


St.  Petersburg,  12,  145 
St.  Sebastian,  226 

TCHERNAGORA,  7O,   209 

Tuileries,  6 

Tzigane  costumes  and  manners,  76 

Venige,  176 

Versailles,  224 

Victor  Emmanuel  of  Ital)',  169 

Victor  Emmanuel  III.:  As  soldier, 
185;  ancestry,  190:  birth,  191; 
visits  Roumanian  Court,  192, 
195;  love  of  sport,  194  ;  notes  on 
travel,  197,  202  ;  marriage,  207 

Victor  Hugo,  130 

Vienna,  94,  104 


Waterloo,  133 

"Wearing  of  the  Green,"  305 

Wiesbaden,  in,  15G 

Wilhelm  II.,  German  Emperor: 
His  varied  pursuits,  117,  123; 
ambitions,  119;  as  orator,  120, 
124;  his  travels,  122;  French 
opinion,  124  ;  visit  to  King  and 
Queen  of  Roumania,  125  ;  Eng- 
lish as  the  language  of  Courts, 
131  ;  statuesque  appearance,  135; 
antiquary  and  connoisseur,  136; 
opinion  of  clever  women,  137 

William,  Prince  of  Orange,  23S 

Women  of  America,  251 

Women  of  Germany,  199 


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